


Hippopheralus

by Infinity_R_Us



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-08 04:29:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 39,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1926645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infinity_R_Us/pseuds/Infinity_R_Us
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the universe next to the mirror universe there is a Intrepid class ship, Hippopheralcus, with an infinity drive. But a small accident landed them in the canon universe - and now they traipse through the canon universe in an attempt to get home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Down the rabbit hole

Disclaimer: We don’t own Star Trek – but we do own the Hippopheralcus and her crew. you wouldn’t want them, anyway.

Notes: So Hubby and I finally got Meagra to join the Star Trek world – and then we end up doing this to it. Sorry, our bad. Oh, and Salazar Slitherin was her invention as well, so blame her!

Oh, and we have a lot of external inspiration in this story, see if you can spot them. In fact, list them for us, we’ll award points!

Love, Diabolical Pink Bunny.

Chapter 1  
Down the rabbit hole

The star ship Hippopheralcus lurched as unknown forces tried to tear it apart. To Alana Ilbrux’ right the bridge engineering consol exploded in a shower of sparks.

“Xenedra!” she barked. She had spent quite a bit of time practising that: projecting her voice along with a slight mental push.

Behind her she could hear the Ocampa woman scurrying around. When she finally answered she sounded confused – and pissed. “It’s not my infinity drive!” she yelled. Then Alana heard the turbo-lift doors slide open and she suspected Xenedra had dashed off to main engineering to go yell at someone.

“Ops!” Alana, Captain of the small star ship called without even turning her head. The big Klingon lieutenant at the Operations Station actually beat at the controls. Then, in that big, rumbling voice of his answered:

“The ship is being bombarded by neutrinos. It has created a stable field and is pulling us in.”

“Lieutenant Momoa, reverse engines,” she commanded.

In front of the large view screen, seated at his station, the laid-back young pilot’s hands flew over his console. Then he shook his head and his dreadlocks flew in wide circles around his head. “Sorry Captain, we’ve lost both the infinity drive and the warp engines. Looks like we’re going in, alaka’i!”

Tapping her com-badge, Alana contacted main engineering. “Lieutenant Phonixia...”

Before she could proceed the strained voice of her chief engineer came back to her over the open line. “Captain, both warp-cores are off-line and the warp engines are blown! The best I can give you is impulse!”

“That will have to do,” Alana muttered. “Momoa, full impulse!” 

She could actually feel the strain on the ship as Lieutenant Momoa wrestled to turn the ship around. On the view screen the outside view was displayed: blue and white bands of swirling energy pulled at the ship.

Captain, the thip can’t take much more of thith, the mental voice of her security officer filled her mind. Commander Salazar Slitherin was an excellent officer, but even at his length he still had trouble with that lisp of his. Usually he tried to either shoot something or shoot at it to make himself feel better, but she could hear the fury in his voice at being unable to shoot at the swirling energy attempting to tear the ship apart.

Then, suddenly, they were out of it.

“Report!” she told everyone. The first to react was her first officer, Commander Rhemus Shah’dy. The tall Romulan leaned over and read the ships reports coming in.

“We have several casualties heading for the infirmary and both the warp engines as well as the infinity drive are off line.” Then he sighed. “And there is another report from Ensign T’val about Doctor Charin.”

Alana sighed. The young Vulcan and the Orion doctor were constantly in disagreement about the latter’s attire. Personally Alana could not see the problem. But then again, Betazoid marriages were done in the nude.

“What is it this time?” she asked her proper Romulan officer.

“It would appear that last jolt caused Doctor Charin’s uniform – eh – to become undone. Apparently her attributes spilled over,” he delicately stated. She frowned at him.

“Excuse me?”

“The most nani part of her spilled out of her top, alaka’i,” Momoa translated. Oh, her breasts had spilled out, Alana realised. Well, that would irritate the Vulcan. And probably her Romulan lover as well, she mused. She looked over at Rhemus. He was scowling. When everything has settled, he would probably once more try and impress upon the voluptuous young woman the importance of a neat uniform: one that doesn’t look as if she had been poured into it.

“Momoa, where are we?” she asked, frowning. Right now she had more on her mind than the Orion girl’s sense of dress.

“Well, alaka’i, it seems we’re only seven thousand kilometers away from the Denorios Belt,” the pilot replied. He seemed edgy – as evident by the fact that he wasn’t slumped all the way down in his seat. 

“The Denorios Belt has been known to periodically produce neutrino disturbances, Captain,” Dorfl helpfully supplied from Ops. “But never anything near what we have just experienced.”

Captain, I’m picking up thomething on the thtarboard thenthorth, Commander Slitherin drew everyone’s attention.

“Put it on the display,” she said – needlessly. Already the view had changed to include a small dark dot in the centre of the screen. “Magnify,” she added and the screen shifted. Now there seemed to be a large black construction etched against the black space filling the screen. She frowned. “Are you sure we’re at the Denorios Belt?” she demanded.

“Ae,” Lieutenant Momoa assured her. “Most definitely.”

“Lieutenant Momoa is correct, Captain,” Dorfl agreed. “That structure seems to be parked just off the edge of the Belt.”

“Interesting,” Rhemus murmured. Alana shot him a look. When her lover started volunteering information, she usually could tell they were in trouble.

“You know, alaka’i,” Momoa grinned as he turned around in his seat to look at her. “I’ve been to this part of space before, and I don’t remember there being a space station. But that was one pupule ride! Let’s do it again!”

Alana cocked her head slightly to one side and considered her pilot. Sometimes she really wondered how he managed to slip past the psychiatric screening at the Academy. Well, his Admiral father probably helped, but still... Yet even as she thought it, she could feel a half-smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. With an effort she turned her attention away from the handsome, engaging young man with the eyes that always seemed to smile.

“Have they spotted us?” she asked Commander Slitherin.

It would not appear that they have, he answered, avoiding all possible esses in that sentence. 

Just then a slight beep interrupted the pregnant silence on the bridge. “It would appear they have now,” Dorfl reported. He tapped a control and the sound of a nasal voice filled the bridge. There was something about the voice that tried to sound defiant, but ended up being whiny. 

Unidentified vessel, this is the Bajoran space station Deep Space Nine. Identify yourself!

“Pushy little brat,” Dorfl grumbled. Alana agreed. Then she frowned. 

“Why do we only have audio?” she asked.

“Our communications array seems to be damaged,” Dorfl rumbled. “This is the best I can do.”

She nodded and knew Dorfl would open the line. “This is Captain Alana Ilbrux of the Federation star ship Hippopheralcus. I am not aware of any space stations in this region called Deep Space Nine. Who am I speaking to?” she asked quizzically.

Rhemus leaned over towards her. “There is a Cardassian space station in orbit around Bajor called Terok Nor,” he whispered. “According to the schematics, that is she.” She nodded.

This is Lieutenant Nog, the voice whined. We have no record of a Federation star ship Hippopheralcus.

Alana frowned. “The Hippopheralcus has been in commission for over nine years now,” she battled with the Lieutenant Nog.

Capatin, I’m quite sure Starfleet ships aren’t black, Nog parried and she had the urge to go smack him.

“Lieutenant Nog,” she said with great self-control. “Is one of your superiors around that I can talk to them?”

This is Colonel Kira Nerys, a new, female voice interrupted the whiny one. She sounded much more commanding than the kid. She also sounded slightly pissed.

“Colonel,” Alana responded, looking at her commander and mouthing ‘colonel?’ at him. He merely shrugged. “We seemed to have been caught in a neutrino surge. Can you perhaps help us understand where we are,” she diplomatically asked. Just then the turbo-lift doors slid open and Xenedra tumbled in.

“Alana, we have a problem,” the civilian scientist burst out. Then she stopped as the female on board Deep Space Nine spoke once more.

You are in the Alpha quadrant near Bajor.

Xenedra frowned. “Who’s the bitchy woman?” she asked. Alana shook her head slightly. Didn’t Xenedra realise the woman could hear her?

Excuse me? the woman retorted. Oh dear, it was going to be one of those days, Alana sighed.


	2. Meeting the Natives

The peculiar double circular airlock doors slid open. The Hippopheralcus was docked at upper pylon 3 and Capatain Ilbrux, Commander Slitherin and Lieutenant Dorfl had been invited on board station. Well, Colonel Kira had invited Alana, but Rhemus had insisted on sending Salazar and Dorfl along. Though Alana was the captain of this motley crew of black-ops members, she had met her match in Rhemus where stubbornness was concerned. And he was extremely stubborn about keeping her safe.

As the doors slid open, a slight woman in a red uniform awaited them. Next to her stood one of the smallest Ferengi Alana had ever seen: dressed in a uniform. Alana felt both Dorfl and Salazar tense next to her. Though Betazoids only communicate telepathically among themselves, Alana was strong enough to read most other species minds – at least the topmost layers of their thoughts. She also had the ability to augment her speech with a mental push. Now, as she beheld the Ferengi, she knew she needed to soothe her two officers before they shed blood: Ferengi blood.

“Okay, you two, just calm down,” she told them even as her mental push was soothing and calm. Then she smiled at the woman. “Forgive them, in our dimension we have been at war with the Ferengi for over a century,” she explained.

“I see,” Kira replied. “This is Lieutenant Nog of Starfleet,” she grinned. “If you will join me in my office, we can discuss your situation in more detail,” she added.

“Wow, you have a Veruvian dragon snake as a pet! Neat!” the small humanoid burst out. Alana looked to her left and lifted an eyebrow. When Salazar sailed he usually keept his body close to the ground; his arms close to his body. At the sound of the whiny Nog’s remark the big serpent raised his torso and flared his magnificent hood. Now he towered over the Ferengi like a snake over a petrified little mouse. Nog actually trembled at the sight.

I am not a pet, he said with great dignity. I am the thecurity offither and I’m poithonoith, you little brat! Both Kira and Nog looked surprised at the dry mental voice. I altho thpit, the affronted Salazar added.

Alana looked at the two people from DS9. “The Klingon is my chief of operations, Lieutenant Dorfl of the house of Martoof. The Nagha is Commander Salazar Slitherin, my head of security,” she explained. 

“Welcome on board DS9, Commander,” Kira nodded towards Salazar. “Lieutenant,” she added with a nod at Dorfl. She seemed to be much more comfortable with the big Klingon than the big serpent. With a slight hop she turned on her heel and preceded them down the corridor. Alana fell into step beside the other woman, leaving the Klingon and the Nagha to follow behind them.

The corridors they traversed were slightly gloomy and of a design that was obviously not Federation: by any standards. But then, Rhemus had told her Terok Nor was of Cardassian design.

They proceeded towards the peculiar turbo lift and the five of them stepped in. Kira gave the command and it rapidly started to descend. Just as the lift started to move, Salazar whipped the end of his tail into the lift and gave them a withering look: they must have started before he was completely inside. Now the big Nagha coiled himself deliberately to take up the minimum of space. Alana ignored him: getting his tail in was his responsibility; not hers.

The lift took them to what appeared to be the control deck and they crossed over to Kira’s office. Once inside the commander of the base indicated they should take a seat and sat down behind her desk. Spreading her hands on it, she looked at them. Alana noticed that Nog had stayed outside.

“So, you say you are from another universe?” the Colonel asked. Alana nodded. She felt the faint pressure against her feet of Salzar’s tail. As security officer he took his job seriously and though he was standing to her left, he had curled the tip of his tail around her feet. Dorfl merely glowered.

“It appears so,” she agreed. “Our Chief of Science assures me this is the only explanation for our conflicting ideas about what should be in this part of space. Where we come from there certainly isn’t a wormhole in this region of space,” she explained briefly. “Also it seems our histories are quite different,” Alana added.

Kira glanced at Salazar and this confirmed Alana’s suspicion that this was the first time she has seen a Nagha. 

“The Nagha planet is on the other side of Romulan space,” Alana explained slightly. “Only the neuter-born are allowed to leave the planet, though.” Then she leaned back in her seat and folded her hands on her lap. “Please, would you mind telling me some of this universe’s history and political alliances,” she said with a very slight mental push.

#####

Meanwhile, back on the Hippopheralcus Phonixia was running around and making life slightly miserable for everyone. Two of the engineers had been sent into the nacelles and another’s legs and rear were sticking out the coolant tank. The rest of them were running diagnostics, explaining errors or hiding from Xenedra – who had joined the melee a few hours ago. Phonixia seemed to be everywhere, though and the poor ensign who had been hiding in the Jeffreys tubes ended up having to run a micro diagnostic of the main deflector dish. It will probably take him two weeks to finish.

Finally all diagnostics had been run and many of the problems were being attended to. Phonixia and Xenedra had retreated to the mess hall and were going through the absurdly large pile of Padds.

“You’d think there was only so much on the ship that can break at one time,” Phonixia groused. Her usually neat hair was in total disarray and there were spots on her uniform.

Xenedra lay her head down on the table; hands hanging slack by her side. “And this time we didn’t even do anything wrong!” she cried. Then she sobbed. “My poor infinity drive!”

Phonixia simply shoved a Padd underneath her friend’s head. “Stop griping, we’ve got to get this bucket flying again,” she said heartlessly. But then she knew the Ocampa woman: one needed to be firm at times. She really liked drama.

Xenedra lifted her head slightly and glared at Phonixia. “I hate you,” she snapped half-heartedly. Phonixia smiled innocently and Xenedra pulled the Padd closer. Then the two of them set to work sorting through the mess that was the only thing between them and cold space. Sometimes the job really tested one’s sense of adventure – if one thought space-oblivion to be adventurous.

#####

Alana, Salazar and Dorfl were heading back to the ship when Alana’s com-badge beeped. Looking over at Kira, who had taken the time to walk them back to their ship, she tapped it when the other woman turned her head slightly away.

“Ilbrux here,” she answered what sounded like Phonixia’s voice.

Captain, Phonixia, the Talaxian engineer confirmed her guess. I can give you a very long list of everything we need to fix, she started. The warp-coils are shot, the infinity drive need new gator-seals along with new belliohm crystals for the casing. Our supply of dilithium had cracked,...

Alana decided she did not need to hear the entire list right now. “Is there anything that works?” she interrupted the engineer. For a moment the line was quiet. Then the Talaxian carefully answered:

Well, we have hot water, she said. Alana closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Hot water, great. At least the male crew would be able to shave, she mused. When she opened her eyes she was composed and calm. She looked over at Kira.

“If I were to send you a list of the parts we need, would you have your people look over it and advise us on where we can find them?” she asked the Bajoran Colonel. Kira smiled. In the two hours they had been talking the two women had taken to each other – Kira seemed to have been some kind of rebel in her youth and thus liked the idea of a group of unconventional, underdog Starfleet personnel.

“Sure, whatever you need,” she smiled. “I’ll even make sure Quark stays out of any deals you make,” she added, but for now Alana could not see the joke. Kira explained: “He’s Ferengi.” Ah.

“We have little money, but we have picked up quite a bit of tradable goods on our journeys,” Alana assured her. She suspected this slender woman that seemed to be wound up as tight as a Vulcan mind-spring would prove to be one of their best allies in this strange universe.

“I’m sure you’ll be fair,” she assured Alana.

Just then a huge light gray ship moved into view through the porthole.

“Captain, that seems to be a Sovereign-class ship,” Dorfl rumbled, impressed. Their Starfleet only had two of them and they were highly thought of.

Ith it jutht me, of hath thomebody forgotten to paint it? Salazar mumbled. Alana had to agree: though the ship looked airy and cool, the silverfish colour did make it look unpainted. She looked over at Kira; who smiled.

“That is the USS Enterprise, Starfleet’s flagship,” she explained. “And it’s supposed to be that colour,” she grinned. Alana wondered about that. Most ships in her universe were deep gunmetal gray, except the black-ops ships. There were three of them, of which the Hippopheralcus was one. The black-ops ships were actually painted deepest black and thus could enter most atmospheres at night without being spotted. Though the ship was equipped with a Romulan cloak, there were times that the technology failed (like entering an atmosphere) and they had to rely on old-fashioned camouflage to get by.

“Who is the captain?” Alana asked curiously as they continued their trek towards the pylon where the Hippopheralcus was docked.

“Captain Jean-Luc Picard,” Kira answered. 

Alana’s lips tightened slightly. “We’ve met. Well, I’ve met our Picard,” she amended.

Kira nodded. “Tomorrow is the official two-year celebration of Voyager’s return.” She frowned at Alana. “That’s the same class ship as yours, isn’t it?” she asked. “The Intrepid-class?”

Alana inclined her head at the Colonel. “Yes.” Then she thought for a few moments. “Will Voyager be joining us, then? In our universe the ship is still missing,” she added.

“Really?” Kira asked. “Yes, they will be joining us, Admiral Janeway included.”

By now they’ve reached the airlock and Alana turned towards her hostess. “Thank you for your hospitality,” she said with a smile. “I will do my best to keep my crew from the festivities,” she promised. Kira looked slightly baffled.

“You are welcome to join, you know,” she invited the Betazoid woman. Alana smiled, but she could feel it was a crooked smile.

“Thank you, perhaps my first officer and I will join you. But believe me,” she repeated, “you’ll thank me later for keeping the rest of them away.”

With those final words the Captain turned and entered the airlock. Dorfl glared before following his captain and Salazar couldn’t resist a final parting shot:

I’ll be theeing you, he lisped.


	3. To catch the White Whale

Captain Alana Ilbrux looked out over her crew, gathered in the mess hall. Mentally she sighed and then restarted from the top:

“There’s an important festival taking place here tomorrow,” she began. Jason actually raised his hand to interrupt.

“But we can still leave the ship, right?” he asked in his deep voice. Alana sighed.

“Yes, Lieutenant,” she replied. “But you are restricted to the promenade area at all times,” she allowed. “And please, do not do anything to embarrass me,” she tried again. “You remember Voyager, right?” she prompted. Sometimes talking to these people was like talking to pre-schoolers. She waited for them to nod. “Well, in this reality they came back. You can mingle with the crew on the promenade, but the official festivities in the holo-suite are strictly off-limits!’” she commanded them with an intense mental push. Few on her crew would be able to ignore the imperative in their subconscious and only Salazar would not be affected. And he was one of her – um – more reliable crewmembers. 

Then her eye caught the twin looks on Xenedra and Charin faces and she nearly lost her train of thought. Looking at the two of them she wondered how she could make her orders clear enough so that even those two would stay out of trouble. Then she sighed mentally. No matter how many contingencies she planned for, they would find a loophole. Damn.

Then Lieutenant Rumpus mumbled something behind Jason – who promptly turned around in an attempt to hear what the man was saying. But seeing as Jason had his surfboard under one arm, he only managed to knock the poor Lieutenant over – who bowled two others over and who, in turn, started a chain reaction that ended with twelve people on the ground. 

Alana closed her eyes and prayed to whatever gods were out there for strength. No, she amended, she needed patience. If she received strength right now she’ll probably kill them.

“Jason, please go stand in the corner where your board won’t hurt anyone else. Xenedra, Charan, please attempt to be discreet, okay?” she finally admonished everyone. She looked at them. She sighed. “Dismissed!”

#####

Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the USS Enterprise wearily made his way to the quarters assigned to him on the space station. Most of his crew would sleep on the Enterprise, but as one of the guests of honour he had been asked to quarter on the station.

As he entered his quarters he noticed the lights were oddly dimmed. “Lights,” he ordered the computer. But instead of the dry computer voice answering him, a sultry female answered him from somewhere deeper into the room.

“Oh, really, honey, why spoil the mood?” 

With a frown he stepped around the small table and into the small bedroom. As soon as he turned the corner, he realised where the deep golden light was coming from. Scattered all through the room were hundreds of candles, each casting a small pool of light.

The next thing he realised is where the sultry voice had come from. On his bed lay a very beautiful green Orion slave girl. She had long, supple legs and a voluptuous body that was merely covered by a scrap of lacy panties (with beads, he noticed absently) and long gloves of the same material. Her breasts were full and extremely bare. He took a moment to notice as well that her long brown curls were arranged on her head.

“What are you doing in my quarters,” he demanded. Well, he could most definitely see what she was doing here, but sometimes – just sometimes – first impressions can be deceiving.

She turned on her side to display her attributes better and smiled seductively. Slowly she stroked her own hand up her body. “Is it true what they say about men and their space ships?” she purred. “The bigger the ship, the bigger...”

Picard might be many things, but he was not stupid. Even before the last word could reach her full red lips he had tapped his com-badge.

“Colonel Kira,” he barked. “This is Picard. There is a naked Orian woman in my quarters.”

#####

Colonel Kira had been having a tough day. With all the ships and dignitaries to shuffle – along with the unexpected arrival of the Hippopheralcus – she and the DS9 crew had been busy for hours now. As it was, she and Ezri Dax were on the control deck busy with the final details for the day when Captain Picard’s distinctive voice came over the com.

Colonel Kira, he barked. This is Picard. There is a naked Orian woman in my quarters.

Kira looked at Ezri, aware the situation called for a delicate touch. Yet the only thing running through her head was to reply: so do something about it! Instead she took a moment to gather her wits – and to suppress the urge to laugh – and tapped her own badge.

“Captain Picard,” she carefully – and slowly – replied. “I will have someone come and escort her from your quarters immediately.” 

Kira thought about sending security to retrieve the woman, but then a conversation of not so many hours ago made her change her mind. She tapped her com-badge.

“Captain Ilbrux, this is Kira,” she began. “Do you by any chance have a female Orion crew member on board?” she asked; smiling.

The tired voice of Alana came back over the system. Why do you ask? she wanted to know. Kira took a few steps around the deck; wondering how to phrase it.

“Well,” she tried. “There is a naked green girl in Picard’s quarters. Does this sound familiar to you?” she asked.

Alana sighed. I’ll send someone, she merely replied before the line went dead. Kira grinned. If DS9 were able to survive them, the crew of the station was in for a very interesting time.

#####

Rhemus and Salazar marched (okay, marched and slithered) determinedly down the gloomy corridors to the quarters they had been directed to. When they finally reached the door, Rhemus touched the small button on the bulkhead and he heard the chime echoing inside.

“Enter!” an irritated voice called. The doors slid open and the Romulan and the Nagha entered promptly. 

Inside they found one slightly ruffled old man, a slightly grinning Bajoran woman and a slightly miffed Charin covered in a blanket.

“This is yours?” Picard asked Rhemus. There seemed to be some unspoken message in the old man’s eyes – almost as if he didn’t like the idea of a Romulan in his quarters any more than the idea of a naked Charin.

Rhemus nodded and handed Charin a new uniform.

“Aw, Commander,” she tried to wheedle, but Rhemus would have none of it.

“Get dressed, Doctor” he told the young woman. “And make sure you stay dressed until you reach the ship!” he added, wishing he had Alana’s mental abilities.

“Yes, Commander,” she said as she reached for the uniform. A small smile played over her lips and Rhemus frowned. But Salazar beat him to it.

In the room, Doctor! He pointed to the bedroom with both tail and hand.

With a toss of her head she flounced off to the bedroom; leaving Rhemus with Picard and the Bajoran.

“I’m Colonel Kira,” the woman introduced herself, but Rhemus was still unsure why she looked ready to laugh. “Thank you for responding so quickly,” she added.

“Forgive me, Captain, Colonel,” Rhemus formally started. “We will assure you Doctor Charin will not bother the Captain in his rooms again,” he assured them. Just then a demure-looking Charin came into the room and Salazar escorted her out. A final time Rhemus bowed his head. “Good day to you,” he said and turned to leave. As he left he heard Picard ask Kira who the strange crew was. He assumed the Colonel would tell the Captain as much as was needed only. But why did she seem so jolly?

#####

Picard finally managed to fall asleep after the Orion doctor (doctor?) was escorted from his quarters. And he admitted it: he would need his sleep. Tomorrow would be an endless procession of important people wanting to talk to him. He hated these occasions (in fact, he knew of no-one who really did like them), but he had little choice but to attend.

As he drifted off to sleep the tale Kira had told him about the strange crew passed through his thoughts. Well, they weren’t his problem: fortunately.

Picard had no idea how long he slept when suddenly he was awakened by the feel of a soft, warm body sliding up against his. His first reaction should have been to grab his phaser, but somehow what he did do was scoot up the bed until he could sit against the headboard and pulled the covers down. What he revealed by doing this was another beautiful woman – this one pinkish, not green – with long blonde hair and no clothes. Her body was pressed against his and a long, slender hand rested on his chest. 

“Hello, big boy,” she murmured seductively. Her fingers traced idle circles on his chest.

As this was not exactly the first time today this has happened – and he had made sure to get the name of the Hippopheralcus’ captain from Kira – he carefully reached out and grabbed his com-badge. He felt like a man facing a dangerous animal; the slightest move might set her off.

He tapped his badge. “Captain Ilbrux,” he said in a strangled voice. With the hand not holding the badge he reached down and caught her hand: the one that had travelled downward. “I think I’m being assaulted by another one of your crew!” he managed.

The woman in his bed pouted. “This is not assault,” she said in a huff.

Captain Picard, are we talking about a pretty blonde with scalloped ears? the captain of the Hippopheralcus asked. The woman on his chest flipped her hair aside with an irritated sigh and showed him her ears.

“Yes,” he replied.

I’m coming, the woman on the other end of the line sighed.

#####

Alana entered the slightly depressing-looking room of Captain Picard. The only part she was happy about was that this wasn’t her Picard and thus this one had no idea who she was.

Inside the room she found a furious Picard in one corner and a now-dressed Xenedra sprawled on a chair. When Xenedra’s eyes found Alana’s she pouted.

“You know, Alana, this Picard is just as stuffy as your Picard.” Alana narrowed her eyes at the young Ocampa.

“Get back to the ship right now!” she ordered. As Xenerda was an Ocampa, her mind was much more susceptible to Alana’s mental push. With big eyes the woman scurried from the room, but knowing Picard – who was dressed in a frown and a robe – she was in for a long evening.

“I’m sorry you have been bothered by her,” she began her apology. Perhaps if she phrased it correctly she might get away with the least amount of trouble. “It seems she and Doctor Charin had a bet on concerning you. But I’ve put a stop to it permanently. My crew will not come near you again,” she assured him.

“Your Romulan said almost the same thing, Captain,” he barked and she realised she was about to piss off two Picards from two universes – and he her. It’s got to be some kind of record. “If you can’t control your crew, you have no place being in command of them!”

She straightened her spine and the pain and anger of long ago coursed through her. But Picard was not finished.

“They are irresponsible and have no regard for Starfleet protocol,” he added. Well, insulting her was one thing. Insulting her crew was another. She snapped.

“My crew is none of your concern, Captain,” she told him formally; coldly. “Insult me all you want, but never dare say anything about them again. I know they do not follow all your rules, but they are more loyal and more committed than anyone you will never meet. They are the best at what they do – the proof of this is that we have survived thus far. And if their actions are not sanctioned by your rule book, you can go to hell.” As she finished her speech she had the urge to rearrange his mind for a few hours. Only super-human control kept her from doing so. Then she spun on her heels and left a furious – and slightly baffled – Picard alone in his empty, lonely quarters.

#####

Alana looked at the two women standing in front of her desk. Too furious to sit down, she was standing with her hands spread on the desk.

For once both women were dressed demurely.

“Where do I even start?” she asked. Xenedra flipped her long hair.

“Oh, come on, Alana, it was just some harmless fun,” she flippantly replied.

Alana narrowed her eyes. “Harmless?” she demanded on little more than a whisper. “Harmless? We are in an alien universe with no allies and no way to return to our own world. We need these people,” she tried to explain to the women. “As for singling Picard out for this ‘harmless fun’ was beyond idiotic...shut up!” she nearly growled as Xenedra tried to interrupt with some inane remark. She burned her frustration and anger into the two women’s minds and saw them cringe. She added shame and saw them understand. “You both know about Picard and me. And you both knew how much this would open old wounds. How dare you do that to me? I trusted you.” She relented slightly on her mental push so they could think more clearly. “And even if you have no regard for me or the rest of your crew-mates, think about your own shame and the fact that the only way to get back will be with these same people’s help!”

Charin was crying as she looked at Alana. “I’m sorry,” she apologised; hanging her head. “Permission to leave?” she asked. 

“Granted,” Alana allowed and the green woman scurried from the room.

Xenedra looked at Alana and her spitting black eyes. As she was empathic as well, she felt that the shame Alana had thrown as her had been only the top of the iceberg. Beneath the anger and shame lay a much deeper pain.

Xenedra cleared her own mind and then filled it with emotions of shame – her own – support and sorrow. She knew at this level Alana could not shield the emotions and would have to react to them.

“I never meant for it to hurt you, you know,” she carefully said. “When Charin and I made the bet it had seemed like harmless fun. I think a part of me even thought I might get back at him for some of the things that had happened between you two – some revenge.” She frowned slightly and felt she had found the way into her friend’s mind.

Then she went and spoiled everything. “I should have known better. I am a genius, after all.”

Alana narrowed her eyes. “Get out!” she yelled. Xenedra blanched.

“But Alana!”

“No, just leave,” Alana ground out between clenched teeth. “I’ll attempt to forgive you later,” she added as Xenedra scurried from the ready room.

When she was alone Alana finally sat down and wept. When the doors slid open once more she did not even lift her head. Then she felt strong, familiar hands around her and she was lifted from her chair.

Heartbroken she clung to Rhemus as he carried her to the sofa and simply held her as she let the shame, pain, past and fear of the future wash over her. Only by confronting her past had she been able to fully realise the predicament they were in here in the other universe. How was she to lead this group of people safely home?


	4. Tea with the Hatter

Those few Alana’s allowing to attend the formal function in Quark’s holo-suite were slowly gathering in the airlock-bay. Their Starfleet uniforms were very different from those worn by this universe’s, but there were certain similarities. Normal uniform was a sleek black with a diagonal line running from left shoulder across the breast to the right underarm. The smaller part of the uniform was the colour of their divisions: golden yellow for engineers, blue for the scientists (including doctors and psychiatrists) and red for the command crew. Salazar, on the other hand, only wore a gold-braided black sash over his left shoulder.

Their formal dress was neat black pants with a formal jacket cut with the same diagonal colour. Personally Alana hated the jacket as it still had shoulder pads and it made her feel like a stuffed fowl.

Rhemus, though, seemed very comfortable in his uniform. But then again, his dress uniform was only slightly more formal than his other one. Romulans set score by shoulder pads and stiff, formal dress.

Finally Xenedra entered the room, looking rather neat. Her usual top was a deep blue and she had on a slight jacket with it. Her long legs were clothed in a neat pair of black pants similar to those worn by Starfleet.

When they were all assembled, Alana nodded and turned to the airlock. Rhemus opened the airlock and the procession of five went on board Deep Space Nine.

The program running in the holo-suite was slightly garish with a definite tropical-island theme. Alana wondered who thought this setting and formal dress went together. 

“It’s a good thing we didn’t bring Jason along,” Mileander, the ship’s counsellor and Alana’s betrothed, remarked. 

It’th thunny, Salazar remarked with a serpentine grin on his face. Alana recalled that the Nagha planet was a warmer planet than her own Betazed.

As they entered the suite, Colonel Kira spotted the group and smiled. Kira headed towards them after saying something to the small, older woman she had been talking to. She was actually shorter than the fire-spitting commander of the station and Alana thought she looked vaguely familiar. She joined Kira as the latter walked over.

“Welcome to our little party,” Kira grinned. A waiter brought over drinks and the group each took one. Kira looked at the woman by her side. “Admiral Janeway, meet the crew of the Hippopheralcus,” she introduced the short woman. Kira turned towards the Hippopheralcus crew and nodded at Alana. “Admiral Kathryn Janeway; Captain Alana Ilbrux.” Then she excused herself and left the group to sort out introductions on their own. She hardly thought she had it in her to do so without embarrassing herself with giggles.

Alana inclined her head at Janeway. “Pleasure,” she said. Then she turned to her crew in turn. “May I introduce my first officer, Commander Rhemus Shah’dy, Lieutenant Commander Salazar Slitherin, my chief of security, our counsellor, Doctor Mileander Morganth and our science liaison, Doctor Xenedra.”

Janeway frowned at the civilian woman. “You’re Ocampan?” she asked.

Xenedra cocked her head slightly. “You seem surprised,” she told the shorter woman.

Janeway smiled. “I’ve met several Ocampa, but never thought they would be this far from the Delta quadrant,” she explained. “Actually, I never thought to see another Ocampan again.”

Xenedra smiled. “I’m from the Alpha quadrant,” she replied, still not sure what was so surprising about being here. “But you still seem surprised with that,” she remarked. 

Just then another human joined Janeway and handed her a glass of wine. He was stocky with short black hair – turning gray – and a tattoo over his left eyebrow. He smiled at the pretty blonde woman. “I think the big question is how old are you,” he tried to explain. “The Ocampa we met only lived nine years, so it would seem strange that any Ocampa would set out on a journey that would take several lifetimes to complete.”

Xenedra still looked huffed, but Rhemus stepped in and saved everyone from embarrassment. “Xenedra is from a group of Ocampa that had been genetically engineered to live human-span lifetimes,” he explained. His cool, calm tones cut across years of emotion and seemed to satisfy everyone. Then Janeway smiled.

“I’ve forgotten: this is the new captain of Voyager, Captain Chakotay,” she said and then proceeded to introduce the Hippopheralcus’ crew.

For a while Alana and Janeway chatted; realising that in many respects Janeway had already been through the same thing Alana was facing now: having a rag-tag crew that you can’t always expect to follow perfect protocol, being along in a strange part of the universe with no way to get home and the insane urge to join the crew in some of their more outrageous adventures. Rhemus and Chakotay also seemed to have hit it off and Alana was happy to see her usually reticent lover talking to the tattooed man.

Meanwhile the rest of the Hippopheralcus’ crew had wandered off. Mileanader had gone in search of something stiff to drink. When he finally turned from the bar, he saw a dark-haired woman looking at him. Mentally he rolled his eyes: what use did he have for women? Now that Vulcan that had sauntered by only a few minutes ago: he had been attractive. Just too bad all that sexy male body was wasted on a Vulcan. What type of species waited until their bodies forced them to have sex during pon’far?

Then a slight mental touch alerted him to the fact that the woman looking at him was Betazoid.

You are the Hippopheralcus’ counsellor? she asked.

Across the space he squinted at her slightly. Who wants to know?

The woman smiled shyly and excused herself from the group she had been standing with. Then she came over to Mileander. “I am Deana Riker,” she introduced herself. “A number of your crew – um – met my captain last night,” she explained.

Ah, Mileander thought. Then he put on his best innocent-face. “You are from the Enterprise?” he surmised. “But I get the impression last night’s fiasco isn’t the real reason you look so harassed,” he mused. She smiled at him.

“Captain Picard can take care of himself,” she assured him. “Have you ever heard of a man named Reginald Barclay?” she wanted to know.

He frowned at her. “I can’t say I have,” he admitted.

“Unfortunately, I have,” she said with a slight sigh. “I’ve been dodging him all evening.”

He grinned. “I’m sure I can do something to help. But first, who is that Vulcan?” he asked, pointing at the sexy Vulcan he had seen earlier.” She looked over at where he was pointing.

“Tuvok?” she asked. Then she realised what it was about. “He’s married,” she informed him.

He scowled slightly. “They always are,” he sighed. Then he spotted Xenedra being in the general region of Picard and he nearly choked. He turned to Deana as he put down his drink. “I’m going to prevent an interdimentional disaster. Would you care to join me?” he asked. She smiled at him as only a woman could who shared an understanding with a male that was no threat. Gallantly he held out his arm and the two of them set off to remove either Picard or Xenedra: whoever they could bully into submission first.

Meanwhile Salazar had slithered over to the buffet table; hoping they would serve deep-fried tribble. It was only after the flustered cook informed him tribbles were considered pets in this universe that Salazar relented and left in search of other diversions. As he slithered along someone suddenly stepped on the end of his tail. He spun around and saw an angry-looking young Klingon woman staring at him.

You stepped on my tail! he yelled at her in Klingon. She glared at him.

“Well, you shouldn’t leave it lying around like that!” she shot back in the same language. Then she grinned at him. “Your Klingon is very good, for a large snake,” she added.

He stood straighter; looking her in the eye. My best friend is Klingon, he replied huffily at the ‘snake’ remark. A new voice interrupted their conversation.

“If the two of you have had enough of these delicate foods, there is a Klingon bar on the promenade,” the deep rumble of Ambassador Worf informed them. B’Elanna Paris scowled at the dark Klingon male.

“I prefer my food cooked,” she informed them. But Salazar had thought of something else.

Would they serve tribble at this bar? The look on his serpentine face was of pure pleasure.

Worf smiled. “Let’s go see,” he said and the two of them decided then and there to sneak out of the boring party. B’Elanna sighed and went in search of her husband.

As the rest of her crew went in search of diversion, Alana, Rhemus, Janeway and Chakotay found themselves still deep in conversation. A number of times someone joined them for a moment to talk to the fabled captain who brought her crew back from the Delta quadrant, but for the most part the four of them were able to chat undisturbed.

Unfortunately, what nobody realised was the fact that one of those people turned out to be Picard. The older captain must not have been thinking straight – or his mind must still have been fuddled after last night – but he approached the small group about an hour into the party. 

“Admiral Janeway,” he greeted the woman. Then he inclined his head towards Chakotay. “Captain,” he added. Then he turned to see who was standing with the two from Voyager and Alana could see the blood rushing to his face when he noticed her. As for her: she felt the blood drain from her face and her heart miss a beat – and not in the good sense. Beside her Rhemus stiffened even more.

Stiffly Picard nodded. “Captain Ilbrux,” he said. Then he looked at Rhemus and stiffened even more. “Commander Shah’dy,” he added. Alana saw Janeway frown.

“You’ve met?” she asked and Alana wondered how she could answer that question without insulting anyone. But once more Rhemus coolly took the need to do so from her.

“Some of our crew and captain Picard had a run-in last night. Alana and I intervened,” he calmly told everyone. But inside the formal Commander was seething. He knew what had happened with Alana and this Picard and he also knew what had happened years ago with the other Picard. He had no intention of letting the bald old man get away with hurting his captain and lover once more. Even if he was another Picard. He lifted an eyebrow as a plan occurred to him.

Fortunately Picard was clever enough not to hang around and he made his excuses soon after. When the stuffy captain had left, Rhemus excused himself as well. He had an errand to run and he had just spotted his quarry. Without drawing attention to himself, the Romulan traversed the room to where a slightly pouting Xenedra stood. She brightened when she saw him coming, though.

“Rhemus,” she greeted him with a smile. He nodded. Then he handed her a small vial he had taken from a hidden pocket. As he did so he looked slowly and determinately at Picard, who stood talking with Deana and her husband, William Riker.

“Redeem yourself,” he simply told Xenedra. She looked at the small vial containing the silvery liquid. Then she smiled.

“With pleasure,” she assured him. He nodded once and returned to where Alana was now chatting with Kira. He suspected by now both women were on first-name (or second name, if you’re Bajoran) basis. He liked the fiery Bajoran. Alana needed someone like that to talk to at times.

It was about half an hour later that everyone looked over to the table on which Picard stood singing. Rhemus had to admit the old man had a rather nice voice. Rhemus smiled slightly and Alana frowned at him.

You had Xenedra deliver that dreadful stuff to him, didn’t you? she accused, her mental voice laced with laughter.

He lifted an eyebrow once more. The stuff he had given Xenedra acted like very strong alcohol on the human (and various other species’) system. Xenedra and Rhemus had pulled this stunt before, where she telekinetically added the drug to a person’s drink. It was virtually tasteless and once suspended had no colour.

Alana turned to look at the singing Captain that a few of the DS9 security crew was escorting out of the room. Beside her she felt Rhemus align his thoughts and she softly probed his thoughts. The thought lying on the surface was smug:

Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors’ note: Sorry, you might be getting the wrong idea about us and Picard. We really love the guy. In fact, he was the one who first got us hooked to Star Trek in the first place. Ask anyone of our generation and they will all agree: the first time we saw Star Trek was when he was in charge of the Enterprise. But these scenes seemed to write themselves, you know. Get a bunch of slightly shady characters in the same room as stuffy Picard, and there will be fun.
> 
> Sorry, Picard. We still love you, though.


	5. Hakuna Matata

Quark was busy counting the strips of latinum left by the Andorian delegation earlier the day, when he suddenly realised the Dabo-girls weren’t at their tables. Well, not that there were any people at the tables, but as a Ferengi it was inconceivable to him that the people he had hired should not be making him money. Instead of working the girls were all gathered near one of the pillars and doing that female thing that meant they were looking at a male they fancied.

“Get back to work!” he yelled at them. They ignored him and so he had little choice but to get out from behind his bar, walk over there and take the first woman by her elbow. “I’m not paying you to stand around and do nothing!” he insisted.

The woman looked at Quark, and then turned her head to look at the empty tables. Turning back to Quark she smiled. “We work for tips, remember? You don’t pay us.” And with that she turned back to whatever it was she and her friends had been looking at. Quark craned his neck.

Down the promenade a young human male was strolling; carrying a big white board with different shades of blue waves running down the length of it under his arm. In a voice Quark had to agree was pleasant, the nearly-naked singing young man was making his way to his bar. 

“Hakuna matata, what a wonderful phrase  
Hakuna matata, ain’t no passin’ craze.  
It means no worries for the rest of your days  
It’s our problem-free philosophy  
Hakuna matata!”

He was dressed only in a white-and-blue short type of pants that matched his board – although the patterns on the pants were flowery instead of wavy. Around his neck he wore a number of beaded necklaces and his hair was braided into things that resembled snakes.

He stopped in front of the much much shorter Quark and the Ferengi looked up into the open, smiling face of the man. To Quark’s right the Dabo-girls were simpering as they stared at the man.

“Aloha, li’ili’i hupo,” the man smiled and Quark thought there was something predatory about the look on his face. “I’m Jason Momoa from the Hippopheralcus. I reserved one of your holo-suites for the afternoon,” he rumbled. He looked at the Dabo-girls and they seemed to swoon. He looked back at Quark and Quark grinned at the prospect of a paying customer.

“You do realise it isn’t cheap?” he wheedled. The big man merely smiled; showing strong white teeth.

“No price is too high to catch some nalu,” he replied. Quark nodded. 

“I have no idea what that means, but if you’re willing to pay, I’m willing to allow you to use my holo-suite,” he smiled his best smile. Then the small Ferengi swallowed as his eyes fell on the extremely well-muscled torso. Then he turned and walked ahead of the big man to the empty suite.

After helping the big man from the Hippopheralcus into the holo-suite, Quark went back to counting his latinum. This occupied him another few minutes before the first customers arrived. According to the shifts on DS9, it was now officially lunch time and one of the best times of the day for Quark. Unfortunately this day would soon turn sour for Quark again. Even as he was pouring Morn a glass of Romulan summer wine, he heard a slight commotion on the promenade. Then Nog stuck his head into the bar and grinned. “There are two of the hottest women I’ve ever seen out here!” he announced. “One of them is an Orion!” he added and with those words he nearly cleaned out Quark’s bar. All through the galaxy the Orion girls were known as some of the most beautiful women there was.

Quark looked at the grinning Nog. “You just cleaned out my bar!” he complained. Nog grinned. 

“Perhaps, but you really ought to see this,” his nephew replied before turning and running back to the scene outside. With a huge sigh Quark left his poor bar and went to look at what was happening that was more interesting than his new batch of Klingon blood ale.

The scene that met him was almost enough to make Quark cry. There were indeed two beautiful women outside on the promenade. One was definitely an Orion girl. Her deep brown hair hung long and loose down her back and her voluptuous figure was scantily clothed in a white lace dress. Beside her walked a girl that looked human, but with shell-shaped ears and long blonde hair. She was not as voluptuous, but her figure was still well-curved. Her attire consisted of tight-fitting black pants and thigh-high lace-up boots with a corset top and delicate gauzy little frills over the upper arm. Both women strutted down the promenade with a gaggle of males following in their wake. At the perfume shop they stopped and the blonde one dabbed a drop of aroma on a delicate wrist. Slowly she smelled it; then offered her arm to the green girl. Just as delicately she smelled the scent and some of the males suddenly looked very uncomfortable. Then the blonde held out her wrist to the nearest male to smell. The male carefully bent down – almost reverently. As he did so, the Orion girl bent over her friend’s wrist again and her soft cheek brushed against the male’s. He turned a deep crimson in return. When the male had finished, the blonde retrieved her wrist with a slight flourish and smiled. Meanwhile the Orion girl had dabbed a drop on the spot between her collar bones, and even as Quark watched the drop ran down her flawless skin and between her breasts.

Quark has had enough. Not only had those two women cleared out his bar, they had also not even shown him the courtesy of visiting his bar! He rushed out of his shop even as the blonde girl stuck her one finger out and retrieved the drop from between the green girl’s breasts. The green girl merely watched her cleavage until the drop was gone and then looked on as the other girl dabbed the scent behind her ears. Slowly the green girl leaned forward and smelled at the spot where the pink one had put the drop. Even Quark wasn’t insensitive to the scene – these women were good. He wondered how long they had practised that move.

As he rushed out his store, he passed the basket weavers next door. Even as he did so, one of the larger baskets popped open and an immense snake poked his head out. It looked at the big Klingon next to him.

Thith one needth a handle on the inthide, the snake told the Klingon. The dark male scowled and Quark stood transfixed at the strange scene he was witnessing.

“The other one had a handle on the inside,” the Klingon rumbled.

Yeth, but that one thcratcheth, the snake complained and started to get out of the basket. Quark merely shook his head: at least those two weren’t his problem!

Finally Quark managed to reach the two women and their smitten entourage. He even managed to worm his way to a spot where the women had to either talk to him or walk over him. For a moment they seemed inclined to the latter and Quark remembered Nog saying that in their galaxy they had been at war with the Ferengi. Peculiar Ferengi, Quark thought. There’s very little profit in war, after all.

“Ladies,” he smiled and they looked down on him with cold stares. “I invite you two ladies for free drinks tonight,” he said; spreading his arms.

The two women looked at him, then looked at one another and then back at him. It seemed to him there was a whole conversation going on between them without either one of them saying a word and his smile nearly faltered. Then the green one smiled down at him.

“Sure, you little ‘opala,” she grinned and she and her friend sauntered by and entered the bar. With a grin Quark watched as all the rest of the men followed them inside. It pained Quark to know he was going to have to dole out free drinks to them for the night, but the profit from all the males was more than enough compensation for it.

Quark started walking back to his bar even as the snake and the Klingon exited the basket shop with the owner. The poor Bajoran looked both happy as he assured the pair he would send the basket to their ship, as well as slightly frazzled. Quark was sure the poor man was about to close his shop and have a nice lie-down.

Quark returned to his bar, grinning. For the next few hours he sold more drinks than most other weeks put together and the only dark cloud was the fact that the Klingon and the snake had joined the crowd. Klingons he could take, but the snake slightly freaked him out.

By the time the dinner crowd had gone, Quark was grinning like it was going out of fashion. Even the Klingon seemed inclined to behave himself; although Quark had to admit the big man hovered near the Orion girl. She, also, would flash the Klingon a big smile whenever their eyes met.

But then one of the other men – a Cardassian – got too intimate with the green woman and Dorfl (the Klingon, Quark had heard) hit the poor man for his trouble. Even as he saw it happen, Morn shoved Salazar aside at the bar and said: “Don’t hog the bar, snake!”

Before Quark could catch his breath the whole bar erupted. The snake (he seemed to take exception at the term) bit Morn, who promptly fell over onto the bar. Another Cardassian tried to hit Dorfl, but he ended up on the growing pile around the Klingon.

Just then Lieutenant Momoa came down the stairs from the holo-suite. A small group of bar-fighters tried to assault him on principle, but the human merely swiped all three of them over with the board he had been using – in one swipe. The fighters stayed down.

Meanwhile the two women reached out over the bar and started weighing the bottles in their hands. Then someone bumped against the blonde one and she promptly hit the man over the head with the bottle: breaking it. With a sweet smile she returned it to Quark. “Oops,” she told the flustered Ferengi. The green one frowned at it and then turned to Quark.

“Don’t you have anything stronger?” she asked. For a moment Quark wanted to offer the crazy woman some Klingon ale, but then she added: “These bottles are too flimsy.” Quark gave her a sick grin and gathered all the bottles on the counter to his chest and slid down the back of it. If Ferengi prayed, he would have.

About a minute later he heard the sweet sound of someone yelling: “Security!” With a smiled he waited until he heard the sound of Ro Laren – head of security.

“What’s going on here?” she demanded. Carefully Quark came out from behind his bar. The scene that met him nearly made him weep. The tables were overturned and the floor was littered with unconscious aliens and pieces of glass. From the ceiling a single pane dropped even as he looked at Laren. There was no sign of the crew from the Hippopheralcus. 

Quark put his head on the bar and a slight sob escaped. “You don’t want to know,” he said in a stricken voice. “I’m not even sure what happened,” he moaned.

#####

At a small table on the balcony overlooking the bar, Mileander and Deana Riker had been having a light lunch when Charin and Xenedra had arrived in Quark’s. They had been discussing the differences and similarities between their galaxies and they had idly watched the two women flirt their way through the biggest part of the male – and some female – population of DS9. They had also witnessed the ensuing bar fight, although Mileander had been expecting it, actually.

“Your people aren’t very well-behaved, are they?” Deana carefully remarked.

Mileander frowned at her. “Perhaps,” he started. “But you also have to understand our circumstances. Our Starfleet does, actually.”

“Really?” she spoke aloud, but her thoughts asked more than that. He nodded.

More than a third of our missions are classified suicidal, he explained. These people live at the utmost extreme edge of sanity and they really are good at what they do. But you know as well as I do normal people do not sign up for this sort of work. They need to relax and if that means they have to break down a bar every now and then to do so, Starfleet merely shakes it’s combined heads, pay the bills and look the other way.

“Are they that good?” she asked.

Mileander nodded. “You saw the fight. Not one of them got hurt and it took them mere moments to disappear. Believe me, without them we would have lost the war with the Ferengi years ago.” Then he grinned and leaned forward. “If you are the betting type, I’ll bet you a year’s salary that even now you can go check the security footage of this afternoon. They won’t be on it,” he told her.

Deana smiled slightly. “Your life sounds exciting,” she commented. “Perhaps one day I’ll introduce you to Reg Barclay,” she added.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors’ note: We started out looking for someone completely laid back to be our pilot and ended up with Jason (he’s the only Hawaiian actor we know, sorry). But here is the rub: though between us we speak a number of languages, we do not speak Hawaiian. The words we get for we had to Google and we cannot guarantee its accuracy. If you feel it is totally wrong, please, after you have had a nice laugh, let us know what the correct words ought to be. In fact, if there’re any Hawaiians out there willing to be our beta-reader for STH, let us know.
> 
> To insanity and beyond!


	6. A Tribble named Wanda

Rhemus hated the idea of having to do this, but a promise is a promise, and when he had made it he had not been aware that the only place on the station to get good wine was at Quark’s. But he had promised Alana their next anniversary was on him, and so now he had the terrible task of confronting the owner of Quark’s: Quark the Ferengi.

As he entered the much-too-cheerful room he saw Quark quickly push back on a door that seemed inclined to burst out of the bulkhead. The Ferengi was muttering to himself as he did so – it was after hours and the bar was empty, therefore Rhemus suspected the Ferengi had not expected any more customers for the day.

“Damn tribbles!” the diminutive Ferengi muttered as he turned to push against the door with his rear. As he did so he spotted Rhemus and smiled: a Ferengi always smiled when he thought someone might give him money. “Welcome, friend,” he said as the door finally shut against the ‘damn tribbles.’ “How can I help you?” he added.

“I need a bottle of Klingon summer-berry wine,” the Romulan calmly stated. The Ferengi’s grin wavered in the face of his implacable expression.

“Well, normally I don’t keep stuff like that around...” he started, but wavered.

“Must I repeat myself?” the big Romulan asked. Quark shut up and ducked behind the bar. When he popped back up he was holding a bottle of soft pink liquor. The wine was Alana’s favourite. 

“That will be two bars of latinum,” the greedy little Ferengi said even as he held out his hand in expectation of payment. Rhemus lifted an eyebrow.

“Tell me, friend,” he said, stressing that last word. “How much is my silence about the storeroom full of tribbles worth to you?” he asked. Quark’s smile faltered again.

“Tribbles? What tribbles?” he asked with mock-innocence. Rhemus pointed at the small being’s foot and the single tribble that seems to have attached itself there. Rhemus had to admit: the presence of that creature was pure serendipity on the universe’s part.

Quark looked down and frowned. Then he handed the bottle over to Rhemus without a single word. As the Commander of the Hipopheralcus left he could hear Quark muttering to himself once more about ‘damn tribbles.’

#####

Ensign John Deevis left the Captain’s quarters with a grin splitting his head in two. He had been given the terrible task of interrupting the Captain and the Commander’s dinner with the report that they were going to need a new warp-coil conduction regulator – soon. But he reckoned it had not been a wasted trip, for even as the doors slid open after he had been admitted, he heard the Commander finish his tale about Quark having tribble-trouble. He was sure the sentence had not been meant for his ears, but now that he had he just knew he needed to tell Dorfl about it. The big Klingon had been making everyone’s life hell in search of a nice basket-warming gift for his friend, and Deevis was sure a tribble counted as such.

“Computer, locate Lieutenant Dorfl,” he said after he was sure the doors was nice and closed behind him.

Lieutenant Dorfl is on the bridge, the familiar tones of the computer voice informed him. 

“Thanks,” he muttered – even though he knew it was wasted on the computer – and headed to the turbo-lift and the bridge. Within minutes the doors slid open and he was admitted to the coolly-lit bridge. Immediately to his right stood Dorfl, busy at his station. Deevis angled a glance the other way, but saw Salazar was also busy. Quickly the young man took the two steps to Dorfl’s side.

“Lieutenant,” he began even as the big man gave him a foul look. “I have some very interesting news,” he explained his presence.

“Explain,” Dorfl demanded, but even Deevis knew the man seemed gruffer than he was.

“I’ve just come from the Commander’s quarters, where I heard about something that you might get for Salazar’s party tomorrow,” he quickly told the Klingon. “It seems Quark has some tribbles lying around,” he added; eager to please.

Did I hear thomeone thay ‘tribbleth?’ the mental voice of Salazar interrupted the young ensign. Deevis sighed. It would have been such a nice surprise!

#####

Phonixia softly hummed to herself as she traversed the slightly-gloomy corridors of DS9. The surprisingly pretty young Talaxian woman knew that in many ways she did not fit on board the Hipopheralcus. She had no deep dark background like most of the others that finally ended up on the ship, nor had she pissed off a superior so that he banished her to one of the most dangerous and unwanted ships in Starfleet. Also, she was usually cheerful and slightly innocent-looking.

But there was another part of her – the part that had been drawn to the job – that fit in perfectly with the crew of the Hipopheralcus.

By now Phonixia had reached her destination and frowned slightly as she entered the garish little bar on the promenade. Though it seemed neat enough, there was little style and too many colours. Not even the Talaxians used that many colours in their clothing!

She pushed through the crowd – stepped on a big blob’s foot and smiled her excuse – and settled at the bar. She was here for the barman today. She had heard he would be able to advise her on where to get a warp-coil conduction regulator.

Finally the small man – well, okay, he was no shorter than she – smiled at her.

“What can I get you today?” he started. She smiled sweetly at him and knew he saw an easy mark.

“I need a warp-coil conduction regulator,” she happily told him.

“A warp-coil conduction regulator,” he echoed. He frowned slightly. “Well, those are very hard to come by,” he informed her. She smiled even more sweetly.

“I know, but ours is bust,” she explained. He looked happy at the news.

“You’re from that ship that’s from another universe, aren’t you?” he told her. Happily she nodded.

“Yes! And this is the worst thing that could have happened to the ship – well, after being stranded here,” she added, seeing slight confusion settling on his face even as she continued. She frowned slightly as she let her smile drop. “Well, I suppose an invasion of Viddians would be worse,” she told him. “Or perhaps species 8472 with PMS,” she continued. She frowned even more. “We had thought that plague of tribbles had been bad some years ago, but fortunately Dorfl and Salazar had managed to contain the problem.” She suddenly brightened. “Oh, and that space vampires that suck years off your life had been a bad day also. We nearly lost some people that day!”

As she took a deep breath, Quark interrupted. “Well, seeing how your year has been, I suppose I could get a warp-coil conduction regulator for you, but it will cost you something.” He informed her. His eyes sparkled.

“Anything,” she breathlessly answered.

“Well, I’ll have to get one from my contact on Vulcan, but if you’re willing to pay I can have it in a few days,” he started his planned swindle. She widened her eyes even more.

“Oh, that would be swell!” she replied. “Thank you!” she happily told him before he could utter another word. Then she turned on her heel and whistled as she left the bar. But the corners of her mouth pulled just slightly up in a smile.

Yes, actually she fit in nicely with the crew of the Hipopheralcus.

#####

The lights of the bar was dimmed as the three of them – Quark, Dorfl and Salazar – sat talking quietly in a corner around one of the little tables. This time Quark had made sure the door was locked and had only let the two men in after he had been assured of their identity. The snake’s lisp in your head was a good indication of who was at the door.

“So, I heard you gentlemen...” he cast a quick look at Salazar, who was officially not male or female, and continued: “...could help me with a little problem,” he nonchalantly told them.

“How little?” Dorfl rumbled. He seemed unimpressed with the whole cloak-and-dagger bit. Well, he can go vent himself out an airlock, Quark thought. If not for him the two of them would still be banned from DS9!

“Oh, just a little trouble. More of an inconvenience, really,” he told them. If he played his cards right he might even come out ahead.

If you called uth, the problem ith not jutht an ‘inconvenienthe’ the Nagha lisped and Quark nearly felt his spine unhinge at the sound. Apparently the Nagha homeworld is on the other side of the Romulan Empire and Quark was happy in the thought that with the way things were going between the Romulans and the Federation he will never meet another Nagha in his life.

“Well, perhaps just a little inconvenienter that inconvenient,” he hedged. He just knew the snake was going to cause him trouble. “I tell you what, if you help me with this, I’ll drop all charges against you,” he smiled. The snake tilted his head slightly and Dorfl snorted.

I am not mithtaken when I thay you have no evidenthe againtht uth, Salazar continued. We merely thtay away for a few dayth tho that Colonel Kira can have ath nithe a time ath poththible with her guethtth, he added and it took Quark a full minute too figure out exactly what the creature had said.

Then he realised he had lost a round. “Fine,” he told them. “I will pay you a half-bar of latinum,” he made his first offer. He hoped the two of them wil agree before they looked at the storeroom and exactly how many tribbles were in there.

“You have tribbles, we can help,” Dorfl spoke for the first time. “How many other people on the station can?”

Quark gulped slightly, but recovered quickly. “I already made arrangements for another two pairs to be transported from here,” he told them. “There are only a few left after that.”

Dorfl shook his big head. “But those few are illegal, aren’t they?” he lightly asked. 

“No...” Quark drawled. “They are more...inconvenient than illegal,” he told them. “If it wasn’t that the nearest exterminator will take a few days to get here, I wouldn’t even have mentioned it to the two of you,” he smiled. “Two bars of latinum,” he bargained. He was still ahead: he had paid only one bar for the tribbles on the black market and was planning to sell them for seven to the gentlemen from the Gamma Quadrant. How was he to know, though, the pair was not neutered?

We are not foolth, Salazar said with a proud tilt of his head. Tribbleth can cauthe yearth of trouble. And it wil take uth hourth to get rid of them!

“Yes, but as I said...”

Jutht imagine what Kira will thay when the findth them here, he added. Just then a soft knock sounded at the door. Then the door was pushed open and one of his Dabo-girls came in, carrying a dead tribble.

“This one escaped,” she informed the group and dropped the dead tribble on the table. “You need to get rid of them now!”

Helplessly Quark looked at her; then at the two men across from him. “Three bars of latinum?” he offered.

“Just how many are there?” Dorfl asked.

“Four bars!” he offered.

Don’t tell me they’ve gotten into the general population! Salazar even managed to look shocked. Quark looked at the girl.

“You can go now,” he told her. Then he turned to the two from another universe as the girl trotted out the door. “It’s just one little one,” he assured them.

“If one got out, the rest can follow,” Dorfl reminded him. Quark sighed. 

“Five bars of latinum?” he asked, hopeful.

“Seeing as we’ll be using our own equipment, at least twelve bars,” Dorfl informed him.

“NO!” Then he cleared his throat. “No, I’ll just deal with it myself. But if you might want to settle for seven bars?” he asked, making it sound as if he was doing them a favour.

In thecret, the snake added. Quark shook his head dejectedly.

“Nine bars, and that’s cutting my own throat!” he added. The two seemed to buy that: but only for a moment.

Ten, the snake lisped and slowly Quark nodded. 

“Fine,” he said, seeing his profit vanish in a puff of fluff.

“Oh, and we’ll need you to keep the bar closed for tomorrow,” Dorfl added with a menacing look. “Tribbles can become very dangerous when they are angered enough,” he explained.

Bethideth, it’th a thecret, Salazar reminded him. Quark felt like weeping.

“Very well,” he added. A whole day without customers – without profit – was like a blow to the lobes! But he was desperate enough to hire these two; just as long as they got rid of the pests!

#####

Quark was sitting on one of the small, hard stool at the coffee shop that was his biggest rival on the promenade. He was drinking pejuda, but the brew tasted like dust to him. Just then Colonel Kira slid into the seat across from him.

“If you’ve come to ask why my bar is closed...”

“Oh, I know why your bar is closed,” she interrupted him.

He scowled at her. “Then go away.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” she said as she leaned forward with a smile he did not like. “In fact, there’s something I need to say to you that I’ve been waiting to say for years,” she assured him.

“If you’ve come to evict me...”

“Nope, even better,” she interrupted again. Now Quark was worried. What could Kira relish more than having a reason to put him off the station?

“What?” he finally sneered.

“Quark,” she suddenly said in all seriousness. “You got scammed,” she told him.

Quark felt the blood drain from his face. “How?” he said even as he leapt to his feet. Quickly he scampered out of the coffee shop and back to his bar. With her longer legs Kira only had to walk slightly faster than normal to keep up.

As the door slid open he saw a sight few people in all the galaxies have ever seen: Salazar was lying on his back, his belly hugely distended. Next to him on a stool sat Dorfl and was chucking tribbles at the snake. Like a puppy he caught them in the air and gulped them down alive. Kira looked over Quark’s shoulder just as the last tribble disappeared down the Nagha’s throat.

“Sorry, last one,” Dorfl rumbled and Salazar looked crestfallen. Then both looked over at Quark and Kira.

Colonel Kira, the snake greeted her. Kira inclined her head. Then she turned to the stunned Quark even as Dorfl tapped his combadge.

“Hipopheralcus, this is Dorfl. I think we’re going to need some help in the bar,” he grinned. Then he grinned even more. “Some strong help,” he added.

I’ll send Jason over, Alana’s voice came over the com badge.

“You see, Quark,” Kira smugly told him. “You just paid Salazar and Dorfl almost double your profit so that Salazar could eat dinner,” she informed him.

The Nagha rolled on his belly and his tail flopped slightly. The betht dinner in the univerthe! He smiled sheepishly. I’ll kill for a tribble, he added.

“And he really will,” the happy voice of Jason informed them from the doorway. “We have to keep him away from the stuff with a stick,” he added.

“But...” Quark began. “How?”

As Jason and Dorfl helped the happy Nagha from the bar, Kira leaned a hip against the counter and smiled.

“Well, Rhemus heard you talk about your tribbles, and from there the news spread. It was Phonixia that informed you that Salazar could help,” she started to explain and Quark sank down into a seat. “Then there was the Dabo-girl they paid to bring you one she had pinched earlier.”

“She’s fired,” he told Kira, but without heart. Actually he was very proud of the girl: it was a very Ferengi thing to do.

“And then you paid them ten bars...ten bars?” she asked, incredulously, “to supply an addict with his dope. Oh,” she added as she started to leave. “And they had your bar to eat the tribbles in.” Then she narrowed her eyes. “and if you ever think of bringing another tribble on this station, you’ll spend a month in the cells,” she said as she picked up the single pair in a cage the Nagha and the Klingon had thoughtfully left for him to sell.

With a little bounce she left, leaving Quark without profit nad eleven bars of latinum poorer.

#####

Alana looked at the Nagha draped over the sickbay bed. He seemed to be in pain and for that she was sorry. But just that. The rest of it wanted to make her roll on the ground with laughter, but with effort she held her pose.

About ten minutes ago Charin had let her know Salazar had been brought to the sickbay with severe tribble-indulgence. Since then she had managed to drag the story from the over-fed Salazar and the overgrown boy that had helped him with his scam.

She looked at the two. Dorfl actually managed to look like a kid caught with his hands in the cookie-jar. Behind them Jason and Charin were giggling together.

Alana sighed. Then she held out the chest she had been holding.

“Pay up,” she informed them.

“But...” Dorfl began. But she silenced him with a mental blast. He cringed slightly: he hated her ability.

“You know the rule: any scam pulled without my knowledge gets paid to the ship petty-cash box,” she informed them. “Now, pay.”

“But it was such a nice scam,” Dorfl whined. She glared at him.

“You’ve had your fun: that will be your reward,” she told him. She shook the heavy box once for emphasis and Dorfl reached into his pocket and pulled ten bars of latinum from it. She was impressed: not only had they managed to scam a Ferengi and get Salazar bummed out on tribbles, they had also managed to help Kira and make a profit in the process.

But she’d die before she would ever admit it to them!

With heavy thuds the latinum dropped into the chest. Quickly she closed the lid and turned to go as Dorfl muttered something to Charin. The Orion merely told him to suck it up even as the doors slid shut behind Alana.

With a hop in her step she went back to her quarters; the heavy chest clutched to her body. The day seemed to have been extremely lucrative!


	7. The Natives are Restless

The bridge of the Hippopheralcus was bathed in perfect silence. The last time the bridge had been this quiet was when the space-vampires had attacked and the crew had had to abandon the ship to the intruders.

The thing was: usually the bridge of the Hippopheralcus was quite noisy – especially when they were docked. But today the tension on the bridge was so high that nobody dared break the silence. In his seat at the con Jason slowly and carefully ran another needless diagnostic and blew away a slight speck of imagined dust. In the command seat Lieutenant Hother sat straight enough to have caused the Andorian’s feet to have fallen asleep during the night. Dorfl was just as unusually silent and controlled behind his station and, as a glaring reminder of why tension was thick enough to cut with a blunt bat’leth, was Salazar’s empty spot at Tactical.

Then the doors to the captain’s ready-room slid open and Alana walked onto the bridge: alone. Tension – unbelievably – soared even more. If Alana came onto the bridge alone then all hell was loose. Everyone knew that.

“Captain on the bridge,” Hother barked and everyone jumped to attention as she walked over to her seat. Hother moved aside and Alana sat down in the comfortable black seat.

“You are relieved,” she informed Hother and with an audible sigh the Andorian got himself off the bridge. The rest of them longingly looked at the escape route denied them.

Rhemus to Dorfl, the dreaded summons came. Meet me in sickbay, Rhemus informed the Klingon over the com. Nobody dared look back as the big, dark male walked out the door and into the turbo-lift.

Like a man walking the final mile on death row, Dorfl made his way to sickbay. He rounded the curve in the corridor and found both Rhemus and Charin waiting for him at the door of sickbay. For once the lovely green woman did not look glamorous and he suspected she had had a long and difficult night.

“Remember what I told you,” the young woman said to Rhemus as Dorfl reached them. “Do not break anything I have just fixed,” she said with a glare at Rhemus. “Remember: in spite of your chagrin, he is not in very good condition,” she told Rhemus, but her eyes accusingly fell on Dorfl. She never liked it when people ended up in her sickbay because of idiocy. Then she turned and slowly made her way to the turbo lift.

Dorfl looked at Rhemus. “Commander,” he greeted his superior, but Rhemus simply stood aside to let Dorfl know he was to precede him into sickbay. Dorfl did as he was commanded and Rhemus silently – unmissably – followed. Together they walked to the sickbed where Salazar Slitherin still lay: his tail curled in acute pain around his distended belly.

“Perhaps now would be an appropriate time to remind you that we have made the ship ten bars of latinum,” Dorfl finally burst out as tension built. Rhemus lifted an eyebrow.

“The only reason you paid the money was because you were caught,” he countered. Then he rounded on Dorfl and punched the Klingon square on the nose. As Dorfl stood growling at the seemingly calm Romulan, Rhemus merely remarked: “That isn’t something Charin had fixed last night.”

“Why hit me!” Dorfl growled with rage. There was nothing the Klingon wanted more than to fight his commander right now, but years of experience had taught him the Romulan was unbeatable.

“I promised I wouldn’t touch Salazar,” Rhemus remarked. “And because the two of you not only caused one of my crew to be out of commission for a week, but also because we need these people if we ever want to get home,” he spat at the two offenders.

Kira ithn’t angry, Salazar weakly reminded the Commander.

“No,” Rhemus said and for a moment Dorfl thought he might hit him again. “But it isn’t Kira that can help us with a warp-coil conduction regulator, is it?” he calmly demanded. “What you did was stupid, arrogant and childish. You made fools of yourself and fools of us,” he continued. He glared at them. “For now I will consider this matter closed.” With another raised eyebrow he looked at the bleeding Klingon. “Return to your station. Charin can fix your nose after she has rested,” he informed Dorfl and coolly turned on his heel and left.

All in all, Dorfl reckoned they had come off lightly.

#####

Mileander sat down at the garish bar on the promenade. Across the bar Quark was angrily busy serving the customers. He noticed the Betazoid and with an uncharacteristic sneer leaned towards the member of the Hippopheralcus. “Are you going to order a drink or are you going to try and rob a poor, defenceless Ferengi?” he demanded. Mileander raised his eyebrow slightly.

“You are not defenceless,” he remarked calmly. Quark did a double-take and stood upright.

“Well, no, I guess not,” he finally admitted. “But what you did was wrong!”

Mileander leaned back gracefully in his seat and crossed his arms in front of him. “Do you want to debate morality with me, Ferengi?” he mildly asked. Once more Quark blinked; aware that there was a barb beneath Mileander’s graceful manner, but unable to find it. With an irritated little jerk he started cleaning the nearest glass with a cloth. Then he plopped the glass on the table in front of Mileander.

“Hippopheralcus pays double,” he sneered. He tilted his head. “So, what will it be, human?” he asked snidely.

Mileander smiled a secret little smile that only curled the sides of his lips. “I’m not human,” he corrected the Ferengi. “And perhaps you would like to talk about it?” he offered.

Quark nearly dropped the bottle he held ready. “Talk? You people robbed me of a week’s wort of pure profit!” he spat. “I’m so hurt I could just kill myself!” he added and angrily filled the glass with the blue liquid he had in his hands. Mileander suspected it was the most expensive liquor in the bar. Idly he reached over and smelled the liquid: indeed, it was a rare whisky made from moonlight berries found only on a couple of planets in the galaxy.

He put the glass down and leaned slightly forward. “If you are suicidal, I can help you,” he informed the Ferengi. For the fourth time since the conversation has started Quark looked lost. Lost and slightly frightened.

“I don’t want to kill myself!” he quickly remarked. Mileander cocked his head slightly and smiled with one side of his mouth.

“You just told me you wanted to die,” he reminded the floundering Ferengi. “And I’m only offering you this advice – free – because it could be such a mess if one went about it the wrong way,” he explained. Quark looked quite ready to quit the conversation, but there was nowhere to go. “A Ferengi has a large blood vessel right here,” Mileander continued and slightly touched a spot on the Ferengi’s sensitive ear. “If you want to try death by exsanguination, I would suggest you sever that vessel,” he informed the startled Quark. “Alternatively...” he began, but Quark removed the glass of liquor from in front of Mileander and downed it. Then he plopped it down on the bar again.

“I think I don’t like you people,” Quark finally responded. “Besides, what kind of a name for a Federation ship is Hippopheralcus anyway?” he shifted his target.

Mileander considered that for a moment, but just as he was about to respond with a flippant remark, he felt a vibration in the air. He turned his head slightly to look behind him at the door as he decided to give a standard reply even as his mind was busy somewhere else.

“At least we are not the Flagiosaurus,” he told the short Ferengi as he scanned the people near the door. Chakotay of Voyager had just walked into the bar, and he had felt a cold menace that seemed to be aimed at the tattooed man in the air. “It is captained by a human called Clarkson,” he continued and smiled ironically at Quark again. “The first officer is Commander Slow with Lieutenant Hammond at Ops. Their pilot is from an obscure race called the Stig,” he said as he stood and slightly bowed his goodbye at Quark. “Believe me, nobody wants to serve on the Flagiosaurus,” he ended the conversation. Quark looked ready for a session of intense therapy. “Goodbye, Ferengi,” Milenader said as he turned to leave.

With fluid grace he made his way between the tables to where Chakotay sat talking with lovely woman dressed in tight-fitting silver clothes. The side of her face turned towards Mileander sported a small star-spangled metallic implant near her ear.

“Excuse me,” Mileander said as he stopped by their table. “Forgive the intrusion, but I wanted to meet the captain of the intrepid Voyager crew in person,” he smiled at the man. His empathic sensors were on full alert, though. Someone had aimed intense hatred at this man and he hoped to pick up on it again. Perhaps he can learn more if he was closer to them.

Mileander turned towards the lovely woman. “I am Mileander of the Hippopheralcus,” he introduced himself. “And you are...?” he asked with a smile. At least he knew she was not the source of the loathing.

“This is Seven of Nine,” Chakotay introduced his companion. Gallantly Mileander bowed and took her pale – but incredibly strong – hand in his and kissed the mere tips of her fingers.

“How wonderful to meet such beauty among the stars,” he smiled at her, but internally frowned. He could no longer feel any part of what he had sensed before. He smiled at both. “And now that I’ve met you, you need to excuse me,” he informed them. Once more he bowed slightly and quickly made his way back out through the crowd; back to the Hippopheralcus.

#####

 

Xenedra looked out of the window and watched the stars dance against the black expanse of space. It was deep into the night and the mess hall of the Hippoperalcus was shrouded in darkness. The only light was coming from the small fire-lamp that she had been gifted with years ago by an old Vulcan. Sitting here alone in the dark she could almost believe that she was the only living thing for hundreds of kilometres around.

It was silly of course, but for this one night she needed the illusion of solitude.

Opening the intricately hand-carved blue wooden box, she took out an antique pocket watch and a braided golden silk rope. The rope had fifteen knots in it: each knot precisely one centimetre apart. The watch was scuffed and the glass had a crack running from two o’clock to seven o’clock. She opened it and waited in silence for the watch to reach midnight. 

The soft ticking of the watch was surprisingly loud in the quiet of the dark mess hall. She looked down at the watch almost fondly and gently used the hem of her top to clean some of the dust on its face away. It was an old friend after all. She still had an hour to go.

As her breathing slowed, she drifted in past memories on this night. 

“Xenedra.” The voice was soft but still startled her, making her drop the silk rope that she had been holding in one hand.

“Rhemus, what are you doing here?” she demanded from the Romulan who was standing to one side and behind her.

He leaned over, picked up the rope and carefully ran his fingers over the knots before holding it back out to her; straightening. “I just...” he stopped and shook his head. “Do you need Mileander?” he asked instead.

“No. No I am fine I just...” she waved a hand at the stars before taking the golden rope back from Rhemus. “I just need some time alone that’s all,” she said and stared at the silent stars.

The tall Romulan looked down at the seated Ocampa woman before nodding and turning around to leave. He had made it halfway across the room when she called out.

“Rhemus, wait.” He stopped and turned to look at her. There was something extremely vulnerable in her glorious eyes as she looked at him.

“Have I ever apologised for shooting you, stealing your ship and stranding you on Ferenginar?” she asked softly.

He considered this for a moment. “No, but it is long since forgiven.” he finally answered.

“Oh, well still...I am sorry.” Xenedra said with a small smile before turning back to her perusal of the stars.

Rhemus waited for another minute before turning and heading towards the door again.

“Rhemus,” her voice once more drifted from across the mess hall. “Thank you for coming after me. For not giving up.” 

Without turning around, Rhemus placed a hand on the door and took a breath before answering. “You do not give up on family.” And with that he left the room.

Xenedra stared at the door through which her oldest friend had left. Although their relationship was complicated – and that was putting it mildly – Rhemus had been a constant in her life for so long that when he had asked her to join the Federation and later the Hippoperalcus, she had done it without too much protest. 

As the clock struck midnight she made another knot in the rope: exactly one centimetre from the last one. Sixteen knots, sixteen years of freedom. It had been on her birthday sixteen years ago that she had managed to free herself and escape from the Caretaker that had been holding her family captive. Of the four others that had escaped she was the only one still alive. She had been the successful experiment, after all. The others all had aged like normal Ocampa and she had had to stand by and watch them age and wither away.

Today she was 29 years old. The oldest any Ocampa had ever lived to be. And if Charin was right she would live many years more.

She slowly ran her finger over the rope again before coiling it and placing it back into the box. Next was the watch. She gently closed it and ran her fingers over the top; tracing patterns almost worn away by these same actions. Placing it in the box, she closed the lid. It was the only things she had left of the world and the people she had been born to.

Later she would not be able to recall how long she sat alone in the mess, knowing that her friends, her family guarded the door to ensure her privacy and in the early morning hours she finally allowed herself to cry.

#####

“Enter,” Alana’s voice came through the door and it slid open. Mileander walked into the candle-lit quarters of his captain and first officer. Alana was curled up on an over-stuffed seat and Rhemus stood at the porthole; looking into space. Mileander lifted his eyebrow in a question.

It is Xenedra’s birthday today, Alana answered the unspoken question about Rhemus’ mood. Mileander only nodded in understanding. In a very real sense the four of them – Xenedra, Alana, Rhemus and Mileander – shared a bond of blood. And as this was Xenerda’s birthday, it seemed only natural that especially Rhemus would be distracted tonight.

“I am sorry to interrupt, then,” he spoke aloud, aware Rhemus would suspect he, Mileander, and Alana would have exchanged some information telepathically. Rhemus turned to look at the slender Betazoid male and Mileander decided to cut to the chase. “Captain, I think there is trouble brewing on DS9,” he told them. Alana frowned slightly.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “Do you have any proof?”

“Alana,” Mileander softly said and sat down across from her. “I have no proof. But in the bar on DS9 I felt an intense loathing aimed at the captain of Voyager,” he explained. “I could not determine why or who the source was, but I am sure of what I felt.”

Wordlessly Alana looked at Rhemus and something seemed to pass between them. Then she turned back to Mileander. “Is Chakotay in any danger?” she demanded.

Mileander shook his head. “I don’t know. I only know that someone hates him. Yet,” he carefully continued, “I also sensed the hatred was just the tip of what was happening in the sender’s mind.”

Alana sat back in her seat and closed her eyes. When she opened them again a fire was burning in their dark depths.

“Damn, and we’re not even going to get paid for this one,” she remarked.


	8. Con Air

A few hours ago the three dignitaries Alana had trusted to go to the official Voyager captains’ ceremony – Alana, Rhemus and Dorfl – had departed for the dreary station. But life on the Hippopheralcus went on and a few of the original Voyager crew had decided to take a quick tour of the Hippopheralcus before returning to their own ship. To his delight, Jason had been tasked with showing them around. He enjoyed showing off his ship, but more than that: he liked being in the company of Seven of Nine. Though not much of a conversationalist, she was stunningly beautiful – and almost as voluptuous as Charin.

The group of tourists consisted of Seven of Nine, Harry Kim and the Voyager EMH, who still went under the name of ‘Doctor.’ According to both their captain and the captain of the Hippopheralcus, their ships were identical – with the exception of course of the paint job on the outside. But the three of them all had a need – though for different reasons – to want to see it for themselves. For the Doctor the reason was as simple as wanting to meet his counterpart. The doctor had been on a mission these past two years since their return to find and free all holograms. He had a following of one, though, and Harry suspected he hoped the Hippopheralcus’ EMH might be an easy catch. Also, the possibility existed that the EMH from the Hippopheralcus had a name, and the Doctor never let an opportunity pass in his eternal – and futile – quest for a name.

Harry wasn’t exactly sure why Seven wanted to come, but he guessed it might have something to do with the infinity drive. It galled Seven that there might be technology floating about that was more advanced than what she was familiar with.

And Harry was just curious to see this mirror image of his own ship. During their time in the Delta quadrant, numerous changes had been made to Voyager, and therefore this ship could not possibly be the same as his ship, anyway. Also, Harry had once passed through a field from one Voyager to another and existed, in essence, on a parallel ship from the one he had started from. Janeway had assured him it was all in a day’s work in the Delta quadrant, but he had not forgotten.

The three Voyager crewmembers and Jason Momoa rounded a corner on deck five where Harry would expect sickbay to be located. Before Lt. Momoa could confirm Harry’s knowledge of the ship, a smaller door to their right slid open and the green girl of the rumours appeared in the hallway. She was dressed only in a small – very small – white towel. It barely covered her generous breasts and came to only just below her buttocks, displaying incredibly long, curvy legs. The plaque on the door she had just exited read ‘Xenedra.’

For a moment it seemed the young woman was quite oblivious to the fact that she wasn’t alone in the corridor, but then Momoa called out to her:

“Aloha, Charin kauka,” the big man rumbled. Was it just Harry, or were most of the male population on board the Hippopheralcus slightly larger than they ought to be? The Orion woman looked up at the sound of the voice and smiled warmly at the dreadlocked young man.

“Aloha, Jason. Who do you have there?” she enquired. She smiled warmly at both Harry and the Doctor, and Harry could actually feel his face flush slightly at the lascivious look she gave him. But then her eyes settled onto Seven. All the while Harry had known Seven, she had never dressed provocatively. In fact, the suit she preferred covered her from neck to foot. But then again, it very definitely covered her from neck to toe. Everyone could see that. And once, years ago, Harry had paid special attention. 

Now the green girl glided over towards Seven. Her every move reminded Harry of a song Tom had once made him listen to. It had been something about every move you make is poetry in motion. Well, the way Charin moved was poetry in motion. Her long legs did not seem to move as much as glide. Her hips swayed gently and though she was holding on to the top of her towel, it somehow seemed ready to fall off at any moment.

When Charin finally stood toe to toe with Seven, the Borg woman only slightly taller than the Orion girl, even in her heels, Charin flipped her hair over her shoulder to cascade down her back. Very slowly she reached out a slender hand and traced the seams of the dark suit Seven was wearing. Then she leaned over to look at Seven’s behind. From his angle, though, Harry was in immanent danger of seeing slightly more of the girl than was decent. He was also aware that should Libby ever hear of the little that had already transpired in the hallway, he would be sleeping on the couch for a week.

Ever so slowly the green woman turned to regard her own behind before striking a pose that had Harry blushing to the roots of his hair. She turned her large eyes on Jason and pouted slightly.

“Do you think Alana could get me one of these?” she asked. She angled a look at Seven. “After all, I would make it look really good,” she added with a slightly vicious grin. From the corner of his eye Harry saw the Doctor looking away and at the uninteresting display on the bulkhead. Harry wondered whether he could join the Doctor in his perusal.

“Kauka, you’re looking for trouble. Alana warned you not to insult these people,” he drawled in that lazy way of his. Charin tossed her head.

“Very well,” she sighed before tossing her hair once more. She grinned at Harry – the Doctor was still ignoring her. “Stop by anytime,” she invited before disappearing through a doorway marked ‘Sickbay.’ Well, at least that room was the same place on the Hippopheralcus as on Voyager.

Just as the green woman disappeared, the door she had appeared from earlier slipped open. Another woman, the Ocampan, stood in the doorway with a murderous look on her pretty face. She, too, was dressed in a towel – although hers was slightly larger. Or perhaps it had slightly less to cover. From one slender finger a lacy thong dangled.

“Jason, dear, be a love and return this to Charin. She forgot it again,” she added as the big human took the scrap of clothing from her hand and stuffed it into his pocket.

“Sure,” he rumbled even as the door closed behind the blonde. With a slightly embarrassed look he turned towards the Voyager crew. “Um, perhaps you would like to see the bridge now?” he carefully asked. 

“Gladly,” Seven said with her chin lifted in the air. Harry could just guess at her anger. Too bad he had little sympathy: he was too much aware of his own embarrassment.

#####

On the bridge a few minutes later, Jason was still showing the three from Voyager around. In Alana’s chair a hung-over Mileander sat with his head tucked into his chest. For a moment he mourned the fact that he had not reached this state through alcohol, but through the intense use of his mental ability. After he had reported his discovery of someone wanting to harm Chakotay to Alana and Rhemus, she had put the entire ship on alert. One of Mileander’s jobs had been to attempt discovering more about the threat surrounding Chakotay. That had also been one of the reasons why Alana and Rhemus had not only gone to the party, but taken Dorfl along: someone needed to stay close to the captain of their sister ship. Besides, Alana was a very strong telepath and she might discover something through her proximity to the target of the hatred.

Salazar had finally been released from sickbay – much to Charin’s relief. These past few days the Nagha had been regurgitating dried but slimy balls of hair and bone. The ship’s doctor hardly ever balked at any of the usually gruesome wounds the crew presented her with, but the buckets full of waste the Nagha had been regurgitating had been causing the young woman to take regular showers throughout the day in order to wash the scent and thought of it from her body. Seeing as Xenedra had insisted on having her quarters next to her lab – and thus just across the corridor from sickbay – the Orion had been using her friend’s sonic shower at least three times a day. In fact, Xenedra had learned to wait her turn in using the shower. A grossed-out Charin could regale the Ocampan with truly horrific stories if she was made to wait for her turn.

Now the Nagha stood despondently at his post, his tail flapping all over the place instead of neatly curled around the consol like he usually did. At Dorfl and Jason’s stations sat two of the third-shift crewmembers. Though everyone was on yellow alert, everything on the bridge seemed quite peaceful.

During the lull in activity, Mileander took a slight break in his mental perusal of DS9. The intense mental activity had worn him down and he had developed a rather nasty headache a few hours ago to go with it. The soft drone of voices – as especially Harry and Jason discussed the differences between Hippopheralcus and Voyager – was no more than a background hum. 

The starboard-side turbo lift doors suddenly slid open and Xenedra stumbled onto the bridge. The reason for her ungainly entry was immediately explained as the dry mental hiss of an angry Salazar grated through Mileander’s aching head like broken glass.

Watch where you thtep! Salazar hissed even as he pulled his hurting tail out of the way and finally curled it around his station. Mileander smiled ruefully. On more than one occasion Alana had confessed to her betrothed that she lived in constant fear of the day Salazar tripped her up. He had the cutest, but most dangerous, habit of curling the end of his tail around her legs in a protective manner.

“Mileander,” Xenedra began, ignoring the irritated Nagha. As Alana had told the lizard numerous times: keeping his tail out of the way was his job. “Something is happening on DS9!” she exclaimed, her mental trauma spilling over into his mind.

“Do you have anything more specific than ‘something’?” Mileander asked her, hardly raising his voice above a whisper. Too much sound aggravated his pounding head.

She crossed her arms over her body as her eyes finally took in his bedraggled look. “You look terrible,” she calmly informed him. Then her large eyes roved over the view screen, even though the scene was that of serene space. “Both Alana and Rhemus are...” she shook her hand almost as if trying to grab the word from the air itself. “They are not scared, as such,” she tried explaining. “But they are apprehensive – more so than they should be no matter what Picard might say to them,” she tried explaining.

Though her barb at the captain of the Enterprise was unnecessary, he could still hear the real concern in her voice. Her uncustomary posture was enough to ensure she had his attention.

With a slight frown he knew he was going to have to get his tired mind out of neutral and contact Alana. Fortunately, after having known her his entire life, the pathway between them was a familiar and easy one. No matter how tired he was, he would always be able to contact her. It was like putting on a pair of comfortable slippers.

He closed his tired eyes in an attempt to block out the noise around him. As he followed the familiar mental path down the bond he had with Alana, he took a moment to pick up a passenger. Though Xenedra had almost no telepathic ability, she, Alana, Rhemus and he had spent enough time together and had practised this same manoeuvre enough that it was hardly a burden to him to take her mind along on the journey. Xenedra had just enough telepathic ability that she did not hinder his progress down the mental pathway.

Alana, is everything all right? he asked. Xenedra says you and Rhemus are in some kind of situation.

The same way that he had picked Xenerda up, Alana could pick up Rhemus, and within a heartbeat the four of them were synced.

Well, the good news is that you were right, Alana informed him and he could feel her smile. Because of Xenedra’s empathy, he could now also feel her and Rhemus’ apprehension. The bad news is that a number of people proclaiming to be a rebel group calling themselves ‘le vrai Maquis’ had taken everybody captive.

Just then a voice from outside their mental conference interrupted Mileander.

“Counsellor, I’ve just picked up a transmission from the station,” Lieutenant Derek Morgan reported. Having been part of the crew of the Hippopheralcus for over three years now, as well as the second in command of Dorfl’s strike team, he knew not to interrupt Mileander when he was mentally out. Therefore the man currently in command of the Hippopheralcus knew that Derek would have had a very good reason for interrupting him now. Dragging himself partially from the four-way meld, he looked at Derek.

“Explain,” was all he managed.

Derek looked down at his consol in confirmation of what he was about to report. Because Dorfl was on DS9, he was commanding Ops. “The signal seemed to be an automated encrypted one, sent to the Cardassians. Though I couldn’t decrypt all of it, it seems to inform the Cardassian government that Terok Nor needs assistance.”

A moment of silence reigned on the bridge. Then very carefully Jason raised his hand. “If I’m not mistaken, in this universe that is a bad thing?” he asked. “Ae?”

Mileander reflected that though Jason was a brilliant pilot, he was sometimes quite dense where political intricacies were concerned.

A suddenly very angry Harry Kim answered Jason. “Yes, that is a very bad thing,” he angrily retorted. He turned towards Mileander. “Sir, we cannot allow the Cardassians to take control of DS9,” he earnestly told him.

Deeming it time to have Alana and Rhemus join the conversation, Mileander quickly informed them of a another mental manoeuvre they had practised. As the strongest telepath, Alana had to initiate the meld. She would also be the one to pick up the passengers and then lock onto Mileander, in essence looking through his eyes and hearing through his ears. Though Mileander would theoretically be in control of his mind, she and her passengers would share it for a while. Fortunately Xenedra could be dropped from the conference and Alana only had to drag Rhemus along. 

“Okay, Harry, what can you tell us?” he asked the dark-haired lieutenant. Harry frowned.

“The Cardassians have never taken the loss of their control over the Bjorans and Terok Nor in good spirit. Any gul that can take control of either or both back, will be considered a hero,” he explained.

“Gul?” Mileander asked, but those on the bridge could detect a slight difference in his tone and expression.

Jason leaned over towards the Voyager crew. “That would be the alaka’i speaking through him,” he informed them, but because the translator did not translate the Hawaiian word, they were still at a loss.

The captain and commander Rhemuth ith theeing, hearing and thometimeth thpeaking through counthellor Mileander, Salazar tried explaining. His dry mental tone seemed to freak the lot from Voyager slightly – all except the Doctor. He seemed to be blissfully unaware of the fact that Salazar had spoken.

Ignoring them, Mileander turned his head towards Harry, who finally pulled himself together enough to answer the question. “They are the military elite,” he explained. “Very cool and cunning,” he added.

Mileander nodded, but the way he tilted his head was that of Alana. “Our first responsibility would be to ensure the Cardassians do not retake control of DS9,” she spoke through Mileander.

By now Jason had slid into the pilot seat and it was he that answered. “I cannot disengage from the station,” he informed them. 

“And I can’t get any communications through,” Derek Morgan added.

Mileander/Alana frowned. As far as Harry could surmise, Mileander had taken a nap from his own mind and it was now just Alana looking out through the black eyes of the Betazoid. He had spent some time with Deanna Riker, but she was not half as scary as these Betazoids.

Alana turned towards Derek. “Is your team ready?” she asked. Derek nodded. “Very well, get suited up. You’re going on a space-walk,” she informed the dark human. He nodded once and tapped his badge, most probably in order to alert his team – whoever they were – and to request a replacement at Ops. But Harry had no intention of sitting this thing out and stepped closer towards the station he knew so well. 

“I’ll take over,” he offered, looking at Alana for permission. She nodded once and he slid in behind the station the moment Derek slid out.

“Okay, people, this is how we’re going to do this,” Alana informed those gathered on the bridge – and some that were not. Harry thought this mental-conference thing was really wonderful. Even better than com-badges.

#####

Xenedra had grown up in space. According to those of Voyager she had spoken with these past few days, there had been other Ocampa that had lived in space in the Delta quadrant. Well, she had walked the corridors of the array she had grown up on, here in the Alpha quadrant. For the past few years she had been living on Hippopheralcus and had flown in numerous space vehicles. This – all of it – was fine. In fact, she liked some of the smaller vehicles where the inertial dampeners could not always buffer the complete feel of acceleration and one could actually feel the vehicle move.

It was space itself she hated. To her the idea of a space-walk was on par with listening to Dorfl sing ABBA in the shower. But, of course, like so much she hated, sometimes an EVA was unavoidable. And she really understood the reasoning behind it. She just somehow wished her telekinesis included some teletransportation. That would have been wonderful: being able to zap around wherever you wanted without having to rely on technology. Not that she had anything against technology: far from it. But today technology had failed them, so she had to fall back on old strategies. Like being pushed out of an airlock into the most inhospitable possible environments and then hoping you can find your way back from a place where just a single breath can kill you; all the while having nothing between you and that certain death but a rather flimsy plastic suit.

Okay, not just plastic. But really!

She tapped her helmet once and turned towards Derek Morgan, who was dressed the same as she. “Can you hear me?” she asked.

“Affirmative,” he responded, then ascertained the rest of his team’s transmitters were working as well. They had been informed that only shipboard communication seemed to work, therefore they would not be able to request assistance from the ship should something go wrong. 

Xenedra was just thrilled at the idea.

Finally the seven of them – Xenedra, Seven and the second strike team – were ready. With a single command Hippopheralcus vented the atmosphere in the airlock and on a second command the airlock slid open. Because they would be transferring to the station, they were not relying on umbilicals for air, but on the suit itself.

Xenedra was just thrilled.

Though they were able to hear one another through their suit coms, the world they stepped into still seemed eerily silent. Because of the lack of gravity, their movements were also retarded, slow. Yet they did not have the luxury of thinking their actions were delayed. Every single move – no matter how small – could cause immense reaction. In fact, because there was no gravity, there was no check to any movement they made. Every action indeed had an equal – and very impressive but potentially deadly – reaction out here. 

Once more Xenedra was just thrilled.

One by one they left the safety of the ship and launched themselves into cold, unforgiving space. Because of the suit Xenedra could not even glance back at the ship, but instead had to keep her body still as they floated through space.

With what would have been nice thumps, had there been an atmosphere, they one by one landed on the outer hull of the space station. The moment they touched the hull, they engaged their magnetic boots. Though the station was mostly constructed out of non-magnetic alloys and they boots actually did not work with magnets, someone had thought they should still be called magnetic boots. Xenedra did not care. The pull of the boots on the surface of the station meant she could not float away into space unchecked.

It did mean they had a very peculiar view of the station, though. Though ‘up’ and ‘down’ were concepts only with value in a place with gravity, one none the less still had the urge to define one’s entire world by that which should be at the bottom and at the top. Now that world was tilted by 90 degrees. ‘Up’ was just empty space, ‘down’ was the wall, ‘front’ was what she considered to be ‘up’ and at her back was ‘down.’ The seven of them were sticking out to the side like spikes on the back of a Greekian hedgehog.

With the slow but precise movement of engage/disengage of the magnetic boots, the seven of them slowly but steadily made their way towards the small circular airlock some distance away. According to the schematics they had found in the ship’s memory banks, the airlock served no real function, but Harry speculated that the Cardassians had possibly used it when Terok Nor had still been an ore processing plant.

The seven humanoids slowly worked their way across the hull, hoping the slight sound of their boots impacting the hull could not be heard on the inside. Out here there was no sound, but they could not fathom how much could be heard on the inside.

Finally the seven of them stood surrounding the airlock. At least three of the strike team as well as Seven could easily open the lock, but none could open it as quickly as Xenedra could using her telekinesis. Within moments she had broken the seal and they stood back to let the atmosphere rush out. When the room inside had been cleared of air, they carefully entered the dark station. Xenedra was not the last to enter, but she was the one to stay behind in order to seal the airlock. It would not do to vent all the air inside the station.

The moment the airlock was sealed, the station itself repressurised the room. Also, now that they were inside the station, they were susceptible to the artificial gravity. Fortunately the airlock had not been high up in the bulkhead and they had neatly landed on the metal floor as they had entered.

Xenedra took off her helmet. “I hate spacesuits,” she grumbled.

“Fortunately we won’t need them to return,” Tempest Peck, the half human/half Trill remarked. She was a stunningly beautiful woman – perhaps even more so than Xenedra. But her beauty was a different kind of beauty. Whereas Xenedra would challenge people with her body and looks, Tempest would use her luminous beauty differently – but with no less effect. Xenedra had that instant hot beauty men wanted to possess. Tempest had the kind of quiet beauty men – and women – wanted to protect. Her eyes were soft and large and her lips seemed almost childlike innocent. As the frontman to the little outfit – thus the one to scout ahead of any operation and set things in motion – she used that quality of her beauty to good use. Nobody ever suspected the devious intelligence behind her green eyes.

Xenedra scowled at her. “It’s either through the front door or nothing,” she affirmed. Though she knew she would be able to concentrate when necessary, she felt slightly off-balance after the EVA.

“Okay,” she continued. “Let’s do this bitch.”

Instantly the strike team took up position around the outer door. Seven and Xenedra went over to the control panel beside said door. It was Seven’s job to ensure their position was not yet compromised while Xenedra scanned through the blueprints of the station. Finding what she had been looking for, she nodded at the blonde next to her. She reflected that Seven looked slightly pissed, but she could not summon the interest to wonder why. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that Seven was now just one of three beautiful women and no longer the belle of the ball. Unfortunately Seven had that kind of air about her that suggested she had little interest in how she looked.

Nodding her own success, they neared the door, which slid open – though not as quietly as that on the Hippopheralcus. Xenedra expected Voyager’s doors would be of the same quality as her own ship.

Leading the way, Derek and second lieutenant Laura Cadman, the team’s specialist and demolitions and weapons expert went through the doorway. They found themselves in a gloomy corridor that seemed to be segmented every few meters. Xenedra wondered at the use of such a construction. It could serve no real purpose, but would irritate the hell out of anyone walking down it, though.

Xenedra stepped in between Derek and Laura; now leading the team to their left. On all space ships there were a definite port, starboard, aft and fore. But DS9 was a ring. Besides, if the Federation’s (either one) unofficial motto was ‘to boldly go where no-one has gone before,’ the station’s motto would have been ‘to boldly sit and spin at the edge of an artificial wormhole where no-one has sat before.’ There was only clockwise and anti-clockwise; no port and starboard.

The route Xenedra led them on took them up a level and further clockwise around the station to where DS9 was clamping onto the Hippopheralcus. Using her telekinetic ability, Xenedra had the ship loose within seconds. Around her the team stood crouched though. The release of the ship would be noted and soon rebels would congregate on their position. Also, while Xenedra was using her ability, she had no attention to spare for her surroundings. In a very real sense her ability rendered her completely vulnerable while she used it.

With the Hippopheralcus loose, they immediately set off to free both the Enterprise as well as Voyager. While Xenedra would disengage the docking clamps, Seven would upload the message Alana had them prepare. As it could be uploaded directly to the Federation ships via the controls holding the ships immobile, nobody would be aware of it except those it was intended for.

The messages informed the two ships of the plan Alana, Rhemus, Harry, Seven and Xenedra had cooked up to save DS9.

The last ship to be freed was Voyager. The moment the clamps had been disengaged, Xenedra and the rest of the Hippopheralcus crew disappeared into the maintenance tubes. Only Seven stayed behind. Standing proud and calm she awaited the rebel teams’ arrival. Though she had been helpful, her task had only just begun.

#####

“I hate leaving them like that,” Jason remarked as they watched DS9 shrink on the view screen. The view on it was that of their aft sensors and the station seemed to be flanked by the ship’s nacelles. But only for another moment before the view changed to a split view of the bridges of the Enterprise and Voyager. On the Enterprise the android named Data was in charge, on Voyager the human named Tom Paris. 

“Not that I doubt you, but you are certain this is the best action to take?” Data enquired.

Tom looked slightly apprehensive as he crossed his arms over his chest. “To be honest, I don’t think I would have chosen anyone else to stand with Voyager in the coming battle,” he solemnly remarked. “I only hope lieutenant Momoa is as capable a pilot as he led on,” he grinned, unable to stop himself.

“Don’t worry about me, hoaloha,” Jason grinned. “Let’s just see if you can keep up.”

Tom Paris grinned. “You’re on,” he retorted.

Let’th go thhoot thome Cardaththianth, Salazar’s dry voice interrupted the bantering. We’ll tally the thcore afterwardth.


	9. Lethal Weapon

Without ceremony the two rebels shoved Seven into the brig. Almost immediately the forcefield shimmered back on and Seven was imprisoned within a holding cell.

“Glad you could join the party,” a female voice from behind spoke. “We’ve been saving your drink.” Slowly Seven turned around and looked at the structure of the cell. But her mind was elsewhere. Finally she looked at the slim figure standing with her hands on her hips in the cell across from her. Next to the dark-eyed Betazoid captain of the Hippopheralcus stood admiral Janeway. She had her arms crossed in front of her, but the posture was not one of self-protection. It just means Janeway was trying hard not to hit somebody – verbally or physically, Seven was never sure.

“Is she always this...flippant?” Seven carefully enquired from the admiral, referring to Alana. Janeway grinned.

“As far as I can tell, yes,” she replied.

“It’s a survival mechanism,” Alana added. “If you’ve met my crew, you’ll understand.”

Seven frowned. “I’ve met them,” she sourly informed them.

“She doesn’t seem impressed,” a new voice joined the conversation. The two women in the cell opposite Seven turned to look at the third inhabitant of their holding cell. Captain Jean-Luc Picard was sitting in a corner on the hard bench, a knee drawn up and an arm draped across it. As the women turned back to look at Seven. Janeway leaned over and quickly whispered something in Alana’s ear. With her enhanced hearing, Seven was able to listen in on them.

“One of these days you’re going to have to tell me what you did to Picard,” Janeway asked. Alana merely smiled serenely.

“Perhaps,” she whispered her reply. Then she looked at Seven. “Are you ready?” she asked. Seven nodded.

Just then a panel in the ceiling dropped down and Laura Cadman, the blonde demolitions expert and second lieutenant Kono Kalakaua, the team’s sniper, dropped down into the brig. Cadman waved at Alana.

“Hello Captain,” she cheerfully greeted. Then she greeted Janeway the same way, but frowned at Picard. “Hey,” she abruptly told him. It seemed to Seven that Alana’s crew was about as fond of Picard as he was of them. Seven realised she, too, would like to know why there was such antagonism between Picard and the crew of the Hippopheralcus. The antagonism seemed to be limited to Picard, as Seven had observed the Enterprise crew happily mingling with the Hippopheralcus crew.

Looking at Alana once more, Cadman held up a finger. “Excuse us a second,” she said. Then she and the slanted-eyed human disappeared trough the door. Muffled sounds could be heard moments later, and then the two women reappeared, each dragging a rebel by an arm.

By now Seven had used her nanites and had disabled the force field holding her captive. With a single mental command through the interface in her brain, she adjusted the nanites’ effectiveness and in a shimmer of green energy Alana, Janeway and Picard were freed. Instantly Alana and Janeway went to assist the two Hippopheralcus women and together the four of them chucked the two rebels into the cell they had just vacated. Picard casually reactivated the force field.

Their group – five (mostly) humans and one Betazoid – stealthily made their way out the brig and through the outer office. At the door Kono carefully peered through the glass front.

“Everyone seems to be gathered in front of the office,” she informed them. “We’re going to have to find another way out.”

“How about here?” Picard asked as he casually kicked in a panel to the back of the office. Behind the panel a tunnel had been concealed.

“I guess we’ll have to crawl this one,” Janeway remarked. Seven winced. She had observed this tendency towards flippancy before in her former captain, and apparently exposure to Alana had brought it to the surface. Seven didn’t really get it, but she suspected this was going to be a long day.

#####

 

The smaller group, consisting of Xenedra, Shron (one of the Andorian twins and the team’s intelligence officer), Derek Morgan and Tempest Peck had left the dubious safety of the maintenance tubes so that Xenedra could access the schematics for the com system on board the station. Most systems were similar, but this was a Cardassian station and not only were the systems unfamiliar to Xenedra, they also seemed to be slightly dated. The aged and patched system was driving Xenedra slightly insane. Usually she could figure a system out within seconds, but this thing was just and insane patchwork of anything that had seemed to work.

“We’ve got incoming,” Derek suddenly whispered and now Xenedra could actually hear the sound of approaching footsteps.

“You have to go faster,” Shron whispered at her, slightly pissing her off. As if she really wanted to stand around in the drafty Cardassian-built corridor in a half-trance and commune with the funky computer.

“Patience is a virtue,” she hissed at him. He glowered at her.

“Not right now it isn’t,” he shot back.

Just then a pair of rebels rounded the corner, and would probably have shot them if it hadn’t been that in their rush the front one tripped over the lousy little step in the middle of the corridor.

“Three hurrahs for Cardassian architecture,” Tempest smiled as they shot down the two rebels. Quickly she and Shron stuffed the two fallen rebels into a small closet and with a quick phaser burst Tempest sealed the hatch lock. They would be able to break out in a few hours, but until then the two would be stuck – and out of the way.

“Got it!” Xenedra informed them, quickly cursing the system. “Cardassian parts, Federation parts, Bjoran parts: why don’t they just redo the bloody station with a single system!”

Mentally restraining herself from blasting the panel out of irritation, she held out her hand to Derek. He and the rest of the team were already back up in the maintenance tubes and she now allowed him to pull her up as well. With her telekinesis she quickly pulled the ceiling panel back up from where it had landed on the floor and they locked it behind them. With the exception of the blasted lock on the closet hatch, nobody would ever know that they had been in the corridor.

#####

Crawling through the maintenance tunnels, the six from the brig was starting to realise they were going around in circles. After crawling another few metres, Janeway turned her head to look at a small tunnel leading off in another direction.

“Haven’t we passed that panel already?” she asked with a slightly pained grin. Behind her Picard looked at it as well. Actually, considering the way things had been going these past few days, he was quite happy to look at the tunnel instead of where he had been looking. Okay, it really wasn’t his fault: in this narrow tube one had little choice but to look ahead at the behind and feet of the person crawling in front of one. But that was the thing: he was the only male in this little group. And though Janeway was the closest to him in age, he hadn’t had any choice but to notice she was still trim and fit. Well, at least he wasn’t crawling behind Alana, but that hardly helped.

Strange, that, he reflected as he looked at the offending tunnel. Everyone called Captain Ilbrux simply ‘Alana.’ And though they seldom used her title, he had realised early that this did not mean they did not respect her as much as his crew respected him. It simply did not seem to occur to the Hippopheralcians to call the lovely redhead anything else.

A head suddenly popped up next to him and he was suddenly surrounded by lots of red hair. A few turns back Alana’s hair had come undone and though she had tried to tie it back up, it still seemed to be everywhere.

“Damn it,” she cursed. She turned to Janeway. “That is the same bloody tunnel,” she informed the group. Backing away she fell into line behind Picard once more. The rest of them turned to look at her as she sat back against the dark gray bulkhead. She closed her eyes and held up a delicate finger. “Give me a moment,” she told them. She leaned her head back against the bulkhead.

Xenedra? Alana mentally called. As her mind took the familiar route to her friend, a picture of what Xenedra was seeing formed in her mind. Or rather: it was supposed to. But all her mind’s eye saw was darkness and she felt a moment of fear. But then the irritated mental voice of the Ocampan answered her.

Little busy over here, she mentally answered.

Why is it dark? Alana asked. 

I’m hiding in a tunnel beneath the command centre with my eyes closed, trying to take out the entire com system in one go without alerting the idiots holding Rhemus’ bunch hostage. Satisfied? Xenedra shot back. Alana frowned.

Very well, she coolly replied. Now was not the time to remind Xenedra not to be a bitch. Is the rest of the team with you? she asked instead. When Xenedra was using her telekinesis she was extremely vulnerable. That was why Xenedra never went anywhere on an operation without at least one large armed bodyguard. Two were preferable, though, as the young woman had the uncanny ability to get herself into extremely tight situations.

Of course, she slightly nastily replied. Alana made a mental note to talk to the young Ocampan. Sometimes she got carried away in her attitude and then Alana just had to give her a slight reality check every now and then.

Okay, she continued, imbuing her tone with slight disapproval. Though she knew Xenedra was too busy at the moment to really understand she was annoying Alana, it could not hurt to at least begin the groundwork. Well, we’re going to need your help. We seem to have gotten turned around. 

Alana heard Xenedra sigh. Very well, she replied. While Xenedra accessed the memory banks of the station, she allowed the schematics to flash through Alana’s mind. Finally the images stopped and Alana felt Xenedra slipping from her mind. Xenedra had given her everything she needed to find their way; now it was up to Alana to make sense of it.

Alana opened her eyes to find Cadman and Kono to her one side looking quizzically at her, and to her other side Picard and Janeway. Seven, who had been leading the little group and was on the other side of Janeway, was not in evidence. It was doubtful she had even been ruffled at Alana’s seeming mental disappearance.

“You got it?” Kono asked. The two members of the Hippopheralcus strike team had taken up the rear of the little group and thus had been behind Alana in the procession. Now Alana smiled at them.

“Got it,” she replied. Then she carefully got back on her knees and smiled sweetly at Picard. “If you could excuse me?” she just as sweetly asked him. In the closed in quarters of the maintenance tunnels there was hardly any room to crawl, never mind crawl past another. But as she now had the map of the station in her head, she was going to need to take up the lead.

She had to admit, Picard tried his best. But that did not stop her from having to brush up against the entire length of him as she squeezed past. With Janeway and Seven it was slightly easier, as they were smaller. But judging from the only male’s indrawn breath and Cadman’s naughty little giggle, she supposed it had been a very uncomfortable manoeuvre for the older man. And then she turned around to find Cadman and Kono right behind her, grinning wickedly.

That was evil, she mentally admonished them. Cadman merely shrugged. 

Perhaps, she replied and Alana picked the thought from her mind. But do you didn’t think Rhemus would approve of us letting you crawl ahead without us to protect you?

Alana shook her head at them, but knew they did have a point. “Okay,” she spoke out loud. “Follow me,” she informed the group while setting out in the direction they needed to go.

#####

Though a Ferengi himself, Nog was aware of the fact that as a species they were not considered to be extremely brave. And Nog was honest enough to admit that his heart had started to pound the moment the rebels had dashed onto the promenade, waving their weapons around and ushering everyone into a large group. It didn’t help either that the security detail on the promenade still abided by Odo’s rule that there should be no weapons carried on it; not even by security personnel. As a physically small Ferengi, Nog was not much of a match for the invading rebels.

When Nog carefully crawled away on hands and knees, nobody paid any attention. And when he crawled into the small closet next to his uncle’s shop, the rebel that saw it did not even bother rustling him out of there. He just smiled sardonically. Not even a Ferengi wearing the gold uniform of Starfleet was considered enough of a threat to be sought out and grouped with the rest. 

Therefore it came as quite a shock to the rebel when he rounded the corner to find a snarling Nog standing over the prone body of his comrade. The two members of the sweeper team – sent to patrol the passages and to pick up any strays – had become separated when the surprised one had needed to visit the toilet quickly. Now he pointed his phaser at the small Ferengi, but before he could fire a single bolt, the creature launched himself at the rebel. The rebel had no time to react before the panting Ferengi bashed him on the head with what appeared to be a piece of pipe. The rebel went down with just a sigh escaping his lips.

Just then Alana and the rest of her group rounded the opposite corner of the small passage running parallel to the promenade. If the schematics for the station proved true – and a few times they had not – there was a small tunnel only a few metres ahead, linking this passage with the promenade, she had wanted to take. But now the entire group skid to a halt at the sight of the Ferengi crouched over the large rebel, chest heaving and shouting obscenities as he continued to bash in the head of the rebel. Carefully Picard walked over and took the Ferengi by the arm he was still swinging; bringing the assault to an end.

“I think you have him,” Picard remarked as the Ferengi’s eyes swam into focus.

“Captain?” he carefully asked. 

“Nog?” Alana asked just as carefully, afraid to break the tenuous grip the ensign had on reality.

Finally the fog of battle cleared from his eyes and Alana reflected that the Ferengi was indeed not a species to be trifled with. They could seem so civilised and greedy on the surface, but underneath they were fierce barbarians.

“Captain Alana?” Nog finally asked as sanity returned. His beady eyes swivelled towards Picard still holding onto his arm. “Captain Picard?” he carefully asked. Then he looked at his arm holding on to a bloody piece of pipe he had wrenched from the wall somewhere between the passage and the promenade. “You can let go now,” he informed the older man. Alana couldn’t be sure, but it looked as if Picard was still considering the wisdom of dropping the arm with the pipe. Then he reached over and plucked the pipe from Nog’s hand before dropping his arm.

“Good work, Ensign,” Picard said as Nog sheepishly rubbed at his aching arm.

“You really mean that?” he eagerly asked.

“How many teams have you taken out?” Janeway asked. She seemed amused at the peculiar sight, but years of being captain had taught her not to laugh at the lower ranks.

“Um, just these two men,” Nog replied. He looked down at the prone bodies. “Do you think this one is going to need medical attention?” he wondered.

Alana looked at the crumpled rebel. “I should think so,” she nodded. Then she smiled at Nog. “Perhaps you would like to take him there?” she suggested.

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” he replied as he started pulling the much larger man down the passageway. Alana and her group watched the curious scene of Nog and the unconscious body of the rebel for a moment. As they started down the passage in the opposite direction, they noticed the other rebel Nog had brained starting to regain consciousness. Janeway carefully leaned down towards the man and pointed at the disappearing figure of Nog.

“You see that man?” she asked and the rebel nodded gingerly. “Then be happy it was us that found you this time,” she told him as she shot him with her phaser. Personally Alana was just happy it was Janeway that had shot the rebel, for if it had been Alana, she might not have set her phaser on ‘stun.’

“Well, Ensign Nog took out one team and we took out another two,” Picard said as he watched Janeway straighten. Then he looked at Alana. “You said you sensed four such teams?” he asked once more.

Alana nodded. “Only one more to go,” she confirmed. 

“And you’re sure they can’t communicate with one another?” the bald captain asked another question he had asked before. Alana was starting to think he did not believe her.

“Xenedra had blocked all communications on the station. The only way to communicate over a distance is either by shouting or mentally,” she confirmed. Sometimes she wished she could swap places with Xenedra. Though she made some enemies, at least the Ocampan was at liberty to say whatever she felt like. But as a Starfleet officer and the captain of the Hippopheralcus Alana did not have that luxury.

“We still need to take out that last roaming team,” Janeway broke up the cold conversation between Picard and Alana. Then the short woman turned towards Seven and Cadman, who stood next to the ex-Borg. “Will you two take care of that?” she asked. Janeway looked at Alana as she graced her with asking the captain’s permission.

Alana nodded. “They are on the level above us, heading clockwise away from our current position,” she gave permission without actually giving it. Diplomacy was often a very fine line to tread.

#####

On the lower level of the promenade the captives had formed little groups of moral support. At the best of times there were over a thousand people on DS9, and with only about ten rebels trying to keep the greatest part of that number captive on the promenade, people had nowhere to sit. There just wasn’t enough space. Also, the rebels could hardly keep an eye on that many people at one time, and the groups seemed to silently mill about. Nobody made any sudden moves though, as no one wanted to startle the rebels. That would be a fatal mistake nobody was stupid enough to commit.

In the midst of one such a group consisting of Enterprise personnel, Deanna Riker slowly took in the people in the room around her. This once she was very glad she had more than the normal five senses with which to take in her surroundings. Though she was part of the small group, her attention was on what her sixth sense could tell her. Right now a panic attack from just one of the hostages could kill all of them and she had taken it upon herself to scan the crowd for any such feelings. She hoped that she would be able to ferret out and stop anyone before they could succumb to fear.

As her mind and her eyes scanned the room, she became aware of a slight movement both in the mood as well as the movement of the crowd. It was extremely slight and she doubted anyone else would have noticed it. She had only noticed because she had been looking for it.

The source of the movement had been Commander Rhemus of the Hippopheralcus and his ops officer Lieutenant Dorfl.

“What is it?” Will asked his wife, leaning slightly over as he noticed her slight frown.

“I’m not sure,” she quietly replied. She looked pointedly at where Rhemus and Dorfl seemed to be making their way to the back of the crowd and Will carefully followed her gaze. When she was sure he was looking at the two from the Hippopheralcus, she looked back at her husband of only a few years, but lover of nearly a lifetime. “But I think I want to find out,” she smiled at him. “Don’t you?”

Smiling warmly at his short wife, Will squeezed her hand. “I would be delighted to,” he told her and together the two of them excused them from the group and steadily started to make their way towards where Rhemus and Dorfl were. Unfortunately they had barely taken a few steps before they were hijacked by the frowning face of Quark.

“If there is anything I can do to help, just let me know,” the Ferengi eagerly offered. But then he spoiled it: “I’ll put it on your tab,” he added.

“Not now,” Will began, but fortunately Ro Laren suddenly appeared behind the small alien.

“Perhaps I can be of assistance?” she sweetly asked. Will turned his warm smile on her.

“Well, we’re going to need someone to keep these people calm. Perhaps you could assist Quark with serving everyone some free drinks?” Will happily suggested. Ro smiled, obviously sharing some of Kira’s feelings concerning the Ferengi.

Quark paled. “Free drinks?” he sputtered. “No, are you sure?” he hedged as Ro dragged him away. The Bjoran security officer merely waved at Will and Deanna, disappearing into the crowd.

“That was close,” Will muttered and Deanna poked him in the ribs.

“Be nice,” she admonished, but she was smiling as well. Together they resumed their journey to the other side of the promenade. After a few minutes they reached the commander and ops officer of the Hippopheralcus.

“It seems you have a plan,” Deanna greeted them. Both Rhemus and Dorfl scowled at them, but she could feel they were not really irritated: it was just that the one was a Romulan and the other was a Klingon. Scowling was what they did. Besides, she had dated Worf. These two did not scare her. That – and Mileander had let slip that Dorfl liked ABBA, classic human opera and musicals. She had researched those genres and anyone that could listen to ABBA was not that threatening.

“It seems we do,” Rhemus finally replied and the two Rikers grinned.

#####

 

Chakotay leaned slightly towards his two fellow-captives. “I think something is making them nervous,” he whispered to them.

“If I could just get my hands on a phaser they would have reason to be worried,” Kira replied. B’Elanna clenched her fists.

“I wouldn’t need a phaser,” she ground out between her teeth. “If only I’d know they wouldn’t kill everyone on the promenade for it,” she added.

Chakotay sighed. Though different species, these two women were almost identical in temperament. Both angered easily, both fought with their entire being for what they believed in and both would rather punch you first than ask for an explanation. They were wonderful people and he greatly respected both of them.

But they were going to get everyone killed. 

He sighed. “No, look. They have been edgy since they brought us here, but something new has developed. They seem even more on edge now,” he tried to explain. He knew that if he could engage B’Elanna’s mind, she might focus. He only hoped the same was true of Kira.

He had hardly finished when the rebel supposedly in charge marched over and grabbed Chakotay by the front of his shirt. Though this man was dangerous in his own right, Chakotay had realised the one they really ought to be afraid of was the quiet one of the rebels. He was a Bjoran, dressed the same as all the rest. He also seemed to willingly take orders from the one currently shouting at Chakotay, but something about the way he held himself told Chakotay he was not as submissive as he seemed. He was just too controlled. All the rest of the rebels he had observed had been on edge: a normal way for someone not trained in military tactics to be when they were busy with an operation. But the Bjoran was too calm, too sure of himself. Chakotay doubted if he would really take orders from the agitated leader of the rebels.

“What have you done with the communications?” the leader yelled at Chakotay. The captain of Voyager focussed on the screaming man.

“I have no idea,” he truthfully informed the man.

“You have somebody hidden on the station, don’t you!” the Bolian woman shouted. Chakotay turned his head slightly to look at the blue female.

“I have been here with you the entire time. So have my companions,” he softly tried to calm the violence he saw festering beneath the surface. The leader, a man mostly human, shook him.

“But you know something of this!” he yelled. Chakotay looked at the man and saw the madness in his eyes.

“We don’t even know why you are doing this,” Chakotay honestly replied. He suddenly realised that, should something extreme not happen soon, he and the other two were going to die.

Disgustedly the supposed leader shoved him away and he landed against a consol, the hard edge bruising his back. 

“You know well, Maquis,” the man sneered. The woman now also seemed to be newly angry.

“You abandoned your people to the Cardassian rule in the demilitarised zone,” she sneered. “Then you allowed those who did try to fight to be captured and imprisoned,” she hotly added.

Chakotay still did not understand. “We fought for our freedom, but the Caretaker took us away,” he reminded them.

“But instead of fighting for what you believed in, you joined with the crew of Voyager,” the calm Bjoran suddenly spoke. Chakotay got the idea he was merely reciting a cover story and wondered what was really going on. “Everyone not fortunate enough to be swept away were either imprisoned or killed,” the cool man continued. At least he was starting to make some sense, Chakotay though. And if this was the story they had used to get this mismatched band of rebels together, he understood how it could have succeeded. Too many people had been killed during those years of conflict. And many of those who had lost family somehow felt the Maquis of Voyager had somehow betrayed them; as if not dying had somehow been a betrayal of that which they had stood for.

Chakotay understood some of their anger. And perhaps once Chakotay might have felt the same. But in more ways than he could ever explain, Voyager had given him and the rest of his Maquis crew a new start. 

He hated the thought that their new start could have caused such hatred.

#####

Alana and Janeway each stood to one side of an archway to the upper level of the promenade. With her telepathic ability, Alana had ascertained that there were ten rebels roaming about on the lower level and the same amount on the upper level. And seeing as all the prisoners were bunched together on the lower level, they all agreed the upper level rebels were lookouts. They also agreed they needed to take these lookouts out of the picture first.

Laura Cadman and Seven were already on their way back, but the captains, Janeway and Kono had decided they were going to get a head start on taking out the upper level rebels. At first Kono had insisted on going with Alana, but she had explained to the Asian that there was a reason why she had agreed to Laura going with Seven. It would also be the reason why Kono was to go with Picard (and NO! There was no way in hell Alana was teaming up with Picard). The reason was that no matter how nice these people seemed, the only ones Alana really trusted were her crew. She was not about to let those who she needed to save her people run about without a Hippopheralcian somewhere close by to keep an eye on them.

So now the two women stood just outside the promenade, their backs pressed to the wall. Janeway nodded at Alana and she returned the nod. Then Alana quickly stepped through the doorway, followed by Janeway. With the rebel this close Alana had no problem mentally stunning her, but both Alana as well as Janeway had been afraid the woman standing around like a statue would draw attention. So instead they quickly shot her in the back with a phaser. The woman went down without a sound and Alana and Janeway caught her before she could hit the floor. Silently they dragged her away from the edge so as not to be visible from below. On the walkway opposite them Alana saw Picard and Kono disable another rebel in a similar fashion.

Without ceremony they took out the bindings they had liberated from the brig earlier and tied the rebel’s hands together. Then they stuffed a rag into her mouth and left her, already making their way to the next lookout. In this Alana allowed Janeway to take the lead. The greatest fear they had was that one of the lookouts should spot the four of them and raise the alarm. And that was the other reason why Alana did not stun the rebels they came to: she wanted to keep her mind clear and roaming. She was the only one that could stop someone that saw what they were doing, but only if she ‘heard’ them first.

As they rounded a corner, they nearly ran into Seven and Laura. For a moment they stood facing each other with phasers drawn. But relief swept over the small group and once more they split off to each take out a lookout in a different direction. If all went well they would have the upper-promenade secured within half an hour.

#####

After listening to the plan hatched by the Hippopheralcians, Deanna stood frowning for a moment. She could feel a similar tension in her husband.

“Your captain is aware of the fact that these rebels down here have explosives strapped to their bodies?” Will asked. “And they each carry a dead-man’s switch,” he added.

“If you take out just one the entire promenade will decompress,” Deanna added. “It will take only one explosion of that magnitude to breach the bulkheads.” 

Rhemus frowned. “At the time we were not aware of the fact,” he explained. 

“Can you contact your captain?” Will asked, worried. 

Rhemus shook his head. “I am Romulan. Unfortunately I can only initiate a mind-meld if I touch the person I want to meld with.” He sighed slightly. “And communications are down throughout the station,” he added.

“We have been trying to leave the promenade to get to Alana, but they guard the exits,” Dorfl angrily added. As a Klingon Deanna could believe he chafed at the idea of stealthily trying to sneak out. But then again, he was a Klingon on the black ship. Who knew what he really felt about all of it? Maybe he was the Klingon equivalent of earth’s James Bond.  
“Can’t you reach her?” Will suddenly asked, looking at his wife. Deanna though about it.

“I’m not that strong a telepath,” she carefully tried to explain. “If she was near and I knew how her mind felt, most likely. But I have not spoken mentally to her and I have no idea where she is,” she told them.

“I know her mind,” Rhemus suddenly said. “I could meld with you. Also,” he started, sounding thoughtful. “If I take you through it, I know how to meld without pulling you into either of our minds. Instead the meld will enhance your own ability,” he explained.

Deanna was stunned at the offer. A mind-meld was extremely personal and intimate. Neither Vulcan nor Romulan ever liked doing it with a stranger. And the possibility of his second offer was staggering.

“This is possible?” Will asked, astounded. He had spent some time with Vulcans, but had never heard of this before.

Rhemus put his fists on his hips. “Romulans are not as opposed to experimentation as our more prudish kin,” he loftily told Will. “And Alana and I have been practising such a meld for years now. I am confident that I could help Counsellor Riker reach a similar enhancement.”

Somehow she knew he was honest in his assessment. As a half-Betazoid she had never been as strong a telepath as the rest of her people. To experience the full range of her power for only a few minutes would be a gift she would always be grateful for.

Finally she nodded. “Very well, we can try it,” she decided. Immediately Will and Dorfl turned their backs on them, forming a perimeter of two around Deanna and Rhemus.

The two telepaths carefully sat down across from one another on the floor.

“Your mind to my mind,” Rhemus began as he placed his fingers on her head. “My mind to your mind,” he finished the short traditional meditation that would meld their minds together. And then he added the short bit he and Alana had developed for this type of meld. “Your mind to be opened, my mind to open.”

The moment the words were spoken it felt to Deanna as if a door in her mind was opened. Sounds and pictures of thousands of minds suddenly flooded her own and she was momentarily unprepared for the barrage. But then she brought up all the shields she had been taught and the noise subsided to a quiet rumble. She felt a familiar path in her mind and recognised it as the link she had with Will. Another momentarily flashed through her mind and she knew it as the one she once had with Worf. And then she found herself upon a new path that was familiar at the same time and knew it as the link Rhemus shared with Alana. Following it she found the mind of the other Betazoid at the end of it.

Alana? she softly asked.

Deanna, I assume? the startled mental voice of Alana came back to her. The assumption was not too startling, as there were not that many Betazoids on board the station and Alana would be familiar with at least some of them. For a moment Deanna wondered if she could introduce her mother to the Betazoid captain and she felt a smile.

Not today, Alana replied. Then her voice carried a frown. You are with Rhemus?

Yes, Deanna replied. She only hoped Alana would not see it as an intrusion into their relationship. And it seemed to be a slightly complicated one at that from what Mileander had told her. Listen, the rebels guarding us on the promenade have explosive devices on what Will calls dead-man’s switches. If you shoot them the explosives will detonate.

For a moment everything was silent, then Alana replied: I have an idea, but only if we move quickly, she told Deanna.

#####

 

Up on the second level of the promenade Alana placed a hand on Kono’s shoulder.

“Don’t shoot,” she ordered the sniper. She felt the young woman stiffen with indignation.

“What? Why?” she demanded on a whisper. “I could have had two down by now!” she added.

“That seems to be exactly the problem,” Alana informed her. “Apparently somebody had anticipated just such an event. If you shoot them, we all die.”

Kono pouted. “I hate them,” she informed her captain. Then she sighed as she crawled back to sit next to Alana. “Okay, so now what, Captain?” she demanded.

Alana smiled. 

#####

One moment Chakotay knew the apparent leader of the rebel group was going to shoot him. The next moment all the panels on the control deck flew into the air, heading straight for the five rebels. As Chakotay, Kira and B’Elanna were all old hands at rebellion and highly trained Federation officers, they instantly leapt at the opportunity. Without a moment’s hesitation they jumped the five rebels. Chakotay had the happy privilege to first kick the leader’s feet from under him and then to hit him in the stomach with his knee on the way down. As the man fell Chakotay helped him along with a double-fisted manoeuvre to the back of the neck that had the man unconscious before he even hit the ground.

Turning around to look for another opponent, Chakotay was proud to note B’Elanna already had her opponent down, standing with a sneer on her face looking for another fight. Kira, as small as she was, delivered a final, enthusiastic thump to her rebel and he, too, went down. Unfortunately the fight was over, as two others he recognised as Hippopheralcians had appeared and had beaten the last two rebels into submission. The Andorian was having a bit of trouble with the Bjoran, but if anyone could take out the calm man it would be the blue man from the Hippopheralcus.

Moments later it was all over. Chakotay kicked a panel out of the way. “Fantastic entrance,” he complimented the two newcomers. But the woman smiled at him. She was perhaps the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, yet he sensed she was not as sweet as she seemed. Besides, he had seen her thump the female rebel. He also noticed she was at least half-Trill.

“Well, the flying debris was her idea,” she noted with pride and inclined her head, drawing his attention to a panel in the floor where another woman’s head had appeared. He recognised her immediately and felt a moment’s sadness. But then he walked over to the lovely blonde and gave her a hand in getting out from under the deck.

“Thank you, Xenedra,” he said as she stood dusting her outfit – which was definitely not regulation. She scowled.

“You’ think they’d dust a bit more down there,” she grumbled. Then she smiled sweetly at Chakotay. “My pleasure,” she assured him. Behind her a dark human appeared, but Chakotay left him to get out on his own. Gallantry could get awkward if one tried lifting a ninety kilogram man from a hole too small for him to comfortably fit through.

#####

Walking around one of the small tables on the promenade, Deanna nearly tripped and grabbed at the nearest person in an attempt to regain her balance. That other person just happened to be the rebel patrolling their little spot and he quickly stepped back out of reach; leaving her to regain her balance on her own. She glared at him, but in that moment of distraction Rhemus slipped behind the rebel and into the small hatch Alana had opened from the other side. Apparently the captain of the Hippopheralcus had a very detailed diagram of the station in her head and she had used it to good advantage.

Inside the narrow tunnel such as those Alana’s group had crawled around in for hours, the red-headed captain awaited her first officer and lover. Quickly he kissed her lips and then he scowled at her. But seeing as this entire situation was not her fault, he decided not to scold her for putting herself in danger. Instead he reached out and took her face in his hands.

“Your mind to my mind,” he started the familiar meditation. Moments later he felt Alana’s mind expand.

The moment Alana and Rhemus were melded, she reached out with her mind and carefully picked out the rebels walking around. Then, with a mighty push she instantly froze the ten rebels. The mental push shut down the minds of the rebels, leaving their bodies rigid in the position they had been in at the moment she had touched them. Aware of the coming mental shut-down, Will had already made his way through the promenade, alerting some of the people he trusted – mostly those from the Enterprise. In turn these people had managed to get close enough to the rebels to catch any falling over at the moment of freezing, as well as to ensure none accidentally relaxed their grip on the dead-man’s triggers.

With the rebels secured in the crowd, Laura and Kono nimbly scurried down to the lower level of the promenade. On her way past Deanna, Kono yelled at her: “Go get a doctor.” Then the woman followed the explosives expert. 

Joining Laura where she was looking over the first rebel, Kono scowled. “Why do you get to play and I don’t?” she asked. Laura continued her examination of the vest without looking up.

“Because I’m cuter,” she replied carelessly. Kono narrowed her eyes, but she was aware that now was not the time to bother her friend. Instead she went to assist Commander Riker and Dorfl as they started ushering people from the promenade. 

For the next hour or so Laura was at work carefully removing the explosives from the rebels. As soon as one was freed, Ro Laren bound their hands and escorted them to the holding cells. All the while Alana had them tightly wrapped within her mind, only letting go the moment she felt Deanna’s touch on someone, informing her she can let go. After a while Alana felt another mind timidly touch onto hers as Xenedra quickly assured herself her captain and friend was okay. Then the touch left, but a warm body curled up beside Alana, adding needed heat in the cold tunnel. Alana felt Xenedra’s mind quickly touch onto Rhemus’ before shutting down in much needed sleep. Alana could not wait to curl up for a few hours sleep herself.

While the telepaths were at work, Doctor Julian Bashir and a number of his staff took up position by the now-open hatch where they were crammed into the tunnel. He would have preferred to remove the unconscious Xenedra to the infirmary, but with the other two sitting between him and her he had to be satisfied with merely scanning her and keeping an eye on her.

The moment he saw Deanna Riker stand up from where she had been assisting Laura Cadman, Bashir saw Commander Rhemus drop his hands and crawl out of the tunnel. But that was as far as he got before his legs gave in. Fortunately Bashir was able to catch him before he hit his head on the floor.

“Get the gurneys,” he yelled at the nearest medic. Moments later they laid the big Romulan down on the anti-grav bed and one of them started pushing it towards the infirmary. Next Bashir crawled into the tunnel and pulled an unconscious Alana from it. At last the Ocampan followed and the entire procession headed for the infirmary. Deanna and Dorfl joined them and he didn’t have the heart to send them away. As they progressed the rest of those from the Hippopheralcus joined them in a silent honour guard of their officers and Xenedra.


	10. Die Hard

While the captains of the respective ships were fighting for their freedom on DS9, their three ships had set out on an intercept path with the Cardassian ships headed their way. Fortunately the crew of the Enterprise and Voyager had heeded the messages sent to them by Seven of Nine. Also, the moment they had left the immediate area of the station, communications had been restored; suggesting the communications disruption was very localised.

But soon after they had discovered a slight problem with inter-ship communications. Though Salazar’s mental voice could easily be transmitted via the normal com system, he could not make himself heard to a non-biological. And on the Enterprise the one in charge was Commander Data. As Salazar remarked: Whothe thilly idea wath that?

Though Salazar could not communicate with the holographic doctor from Voyager either, he had no trouble ignoring the bald being. But now they needed to coordinate their movements and Salazar has to communicate with Data using the voice of Dagga. Dagga was his strike team’s Hirogen specialist and currently in control of Tactical. He was also the one best used to the arrangement of translating for Salazar. Once before the Nagha had needed to use an intermediary and that time he and Dagga had perfected the three-way conversation.

On Voyager Tom Paris was in charge. He looked slightly unhappy, as the entire rest of his senior staff were off-ship. The Nagha had seen the longing in Harry Kim’s face to rather be on Voyager, and though they could always beam the man over, Harry had made an offer and he was sticking to it. Salazar understood such commitment to one’s word and respected the man more for it.

“I feel the need to affirm once more that were are not heading towards the Cardassian border in order to fight. We are merely about to explain to the Cardassian representative that the message they had received had been sent in error,” the yellow android on the Enterprise reminded the other two ships. Strictly speaking Data would be in charge of their little fleet, as the Enterprise was the flagship of Starfleet. Somehow, Salazar knew, things were not going to be that clear-cut. Those on the Hippopheralcus were not wont to following orders – ever – and even less so orders from another galaxy. It wasn’t like they were actually being stubborn or rebellious, exactly. Instead it was a matter of them having to rely on themselves. Their own actions would be trusted before those of another ship.

Suddenly Salazar’s com-badge beeped.

Phonixia to Slitherin, the voice over the badge announced itself. Salazar tapped the badge pinned to the single piece of clothing he wore: a synthetic leather band slung diagonally across one shoulder.

Yeth, Phonixthia, he responded. He might not be the best judge of humanoid facial expressions – the Nagha had very few and seldom relied on it as a means of communication – but because of his Nagha genetics he had superb hearing and a very sensitive perception of pitch. And now he judges Phonixia to sound slightly irritated.

Tell the hot-shot behind the con that we do not have the warp-drive online yet, nor full propultion. We only have impulse and manoeuvring thrusters. Phonixia, besides sounding irritated, sounded harassed. He knew she had been working around the clock for days now and he suddenly felt a stab of guilt. While he and the rest of the crew had been off pestering DS9, the engineering staff had been working like crazy in order to get the ship back online. Suddenly his tribble expedition seemed rather petty.

At the thought of tribbles he felt his mouth starting to water.

But with super-Nagha strength and self-control he kept his desires under control and brusquely responded: Yeth, we are aware. How thoon will you have the retht of the thythtemth online?

How soon will you have that warp-coil conduction regulator I need? Phonixia demanded.

Thoon, he finally ended the conversation. Thalazar out.

Just then six Cardassian Galor-class warships dropped out of warp in front of the small mis-matched Federation fleet. 

“The Cardassians are hailing us,” Harry Kim announced from Ops.

Open channel, Salazar announced. On the split view-screen the face of a relatively young Cardassian appeared. His skin tone was slightly darker than the Cardassians Salazar was used to, but he knew from some information he had come across some years ago that one of the more influential families in the Cardassian Empire was marked by this darker skin tone. He wondered if it was true of these Cardassians as well. If so, then this Cardassian would be a formidable enemy: one did not stay influential in the Cardassian Empire for long if one was not exceptionally devious.

“I am Gul Dooku of the Cardassian Empire,” he loftily announced himself.

“I am Commander Data of the United Federation of Planets, third in command of the star ship Enterprise,” the android calmly replied. “You are currently inside Federation space. Please state your business.”

Willing to let the Enterprise handle the formalities for now, both the Hippopheralcus and Voyager kept quiet. Setting out on this mission they had all been aware of the fact that this might end in a fight. They might not have said so, but they had known that whatever had been happening on DS9 had probably been orchestrated by the Cardassians. It was no secret that the Cardassians wanted Terok Nor back.

“We received a distress signal from Terok Nor,” Dooku answered. He smiled oily. “We are merely here to assist in whatever crisis the Bjorans and the Federation find themselves in.” 

“Nice speech,” Jason remarked, aware communications were currently one-way. “But I think he slipped when he called the station Terok Nor instead of DS9.”

“Cardassians never slip,” Harry mused. Salazar had to agree. Though a nice speech, this was nothing more than the preliminary move to a battle.

“The situation on Deep Space 9 is under control,” Data smoothly shot back. “A message has been sent to the Bjorans and the Federation. We appreciate your help, but it is not needed.”

The Cardassian smiled even more and spread his hands, the gesture somehow including not only his ship, but also the other five ships with him. “We are here now,” he responded. “Could we not aid you in some way?”

“He’s scheming something,” Harry muttered.

“Undeniably,” Dagga muttered. He was officially second in command at the moment. Though Mileander outranked him, the Betazoid had finally passed out a few hours ago and was currently under the delicate care of Charin.

Just then one of the Cardassian warships exploded. For a moment everyone on board the three Federation ships were stunned. But the Cardassians did not seem stunned. Instead they spoke for a while between themselves before the Gul turned back to the view-screen; furious. “The torpedo that destroyed our ship had a Federation signature!” he growled. “How dare you attack one of our ships!”

“We did not fire that torpedo,” Data remarked, slightly cocking his head.

Salazar considered the conversation with that calm reptilian mind of his before finally coming to a decision. He realised that the Cardassians were obviously scheming for a fight. That would explain the reason for the arrival of six ships. He only wondered at the reason one ship exploded. He was quite sure that neither one of the other ships had fired that shot.

Kim, open a thecure channel to Voyager, he told the dark-haired Lieutenant. Harry nodded and moments later a channel was established between them and the other Intrepid-class ship.

“Yes, Commander Slitherin,” Tom Paris said as the link opened.

I am thure Commander Data did not fire that thhot, Salazar began. Neither did we.

“We didn’t do it either,” Tom replied.

Then the Cardaththianth dethtroyed their own thhip, Salazar simply informed the other man.

“Why would they do that?” Tom asked, slightly baffled. Salazar recalled that though the man was a brilliant pilot, he had spent the greatest part of his career in the Delta quadrant and would not be as familiar with the intricacies of Alpha quadrant species.

Cardaththianth theldom thtart a battle. Thith way they have the exthcuthe to fight without having to appear the aggreththorth, he explained. Believe me, they will attack.

“Okay,” Tom seemed to be considering his options. “Voyager has some extra armour and weapons the Cardassians would be unfamiliar with,” he finally said. “The three of us would easily disable five ships.” He frowned. “But it does seem unfair, though,” he added.

Yeth, it doeth, Salazar drawled. Just then three larger, Keldon-class Cardassian warships decloaked among the fleet of Cardassians. Salazar grinned his reptilian grin – which had a lot of teeth in it. Now itth not tho unfair, he informed Paris.

“That’s not what I meant. Now they have the advantage,” the human said. Then he narrowed his eyes slightly. “Unless we can take them by surprise somehow...”

Salazar’s grin widened. You theem to have read my mind, he happily said. Mithter Dagga, fire at will!

On screen – to one side – Data and the Gul were still in serious discussion. But Salazar – and apparently Tom Paris – had realised it was nothing more than a delay. But now the delay was ended as the Hippopheralcus fired at the nearest Keldon-class ship. Though its shields were up, it was turned slightly away from the black ship and they managed to weaken the Cardassian’s shields. 

For a stunned moment both Data and Dooku was silenced. Then the Cardassian’s face contorted in rage. “You have fired on a Cardassian vessel,” he growled.

Commander Data warned you that you were in Federation thpathe and in direct violation of the treaty between our peopleth, Salazar informed the Gul, referring to the discussion that had been taking place between the Enterprise and the Cardassian flagship. We all know that torpedo wath not from our thhipt – the logth will thhow it. And, he shrugged, using the human body language, we got tired of waiting. Dagga furiously translated for the android on the other ship.

“You have declared war on the Cardassian Empire!” Dooku sneered.

“No, Gul Dooku,” Data calmly joined the discussion. “You did when you refused to leave Federation space when asked. You had three minutes and forty-two seconds to respond to my ultimatum. Leave this space before the Federation and the Cardassian Empire are at war.”

“You are outnumbered tree to one!” the Gul loftily declared.

Theemth like a fair fight, Salazar declared. Believe me, you will not win thith fight, he added. That had been only a warning thhot. The Gul leaned back in his seat, obviously happy in the knowledge that he held the upper hand in this battle.

“So be it,” he declared before terminating communications. The screen returned to a view from the fore sensors, but Salazar was aware the truth of what was happening out there would be relayed by the displays used by the crew on the bridge. He leaned back himself, although that was not easy, considering his tail was in the way.

Jathon, evathive pattern beta-four, he ordered. The ship leapt at the touch of the capable pilot’s fingers and though they simply had impulse and thrusters, they needed nothing else in this fight. Space battles were short and intense.

The ship sailed by the same Keldon-class it had hit earlier, and on the way it hit their aft shields with the specially designed Asgard plasma beam. The beam had been developed a few years ago in the war against the Ferengi Empire. It was a beam of super-heated plasma drawn directly from the warp-core itself and aimed in a tight beam at a target. The beam could punch a hole in most shields on the first try. The only drawback was that the ship only had four plasma cannons. Because the cool-down after even a single shot was nearly an hour, the weapon could only be used sparingly.

The beam hit. “Commander, they have taken massive damage on their port bow,” Harry reported. Apparently the Cardassians agreed, for the ship lurched to one side out of the worst of the battle. It trailed debris as it went.

The view-screen showed Voyager swoop in, her Borg armour covering her like the plates of a Terran armadillo. Her weapons obviously had some modifications, as the Galor-class ship she was attacking suddenly decompressed and blew up. As space was a vacuum, the fire was extinguished the moment the ship’s atmospheric oxygen ran out.

The Enterprise was having a slightly harder time of it, as she fought with the armaments she had been commissioned with. But the ship was superior to the smaller Galor-class ship, and the pilots manoeuvring kept the Galor-ship between the Enterprise and the Keldo-class ships.

Draw the fire of the nearetht Keldon-clathth thhip, Salazar ordered Dagga at Tactical. Immediately the Hirogen fired two of the new Janus-drones at the large ship. It retaliated, but Voyager shot her phasers at it from the other side, confusing the issue for the Cardassians. In that moment the Hippopheralcus shot the second of their Asgard plasma beams, cutting through the Cardassian shields and causing the ship to blow up. At the same moment the Enterprise cut through their Galor-class ship’s shields and it was disabled, tilting to one side because of the gasses it lost through the hole in its starboard hull.

The last Keldon-class ship shot at the Enterprise, and ignoring the Galor-ships shooting at them, both the Hippopheralcus and Voyager rounded on the large Cardassian vessel. The three Federation vessels loosened photon torpedoes at it. Dagga added a few Janus drones as well. It hit simultaneously and the large ship blew up, blasting debris everywhere.

As the three Federation ships had been flying at the same ship, some nice manoeuvring were required to prevent a gigantic space-fender-bender. But when they had veered around one another, the three Federation ships ended in a three-pointed star, facing outwards from the central axis. A few sparks were flying around the bridge, seeing as the Cardassians had actually scored a few hits themselves. The Hippopheralcus’ shields were down to fourty percent, but right now nobody seemed to notice. The Cardassians had just lost their three Keldon-class ships, and they must know that the remaining four Galor-class ships were no match for the combined effort of the three Federation ships.

“The Enterprise is hailing us,” Harry announced.

On thcreen, Salazar ordered. Data’s yellow face appeared.

“Voyager, Hippopheralcus, the Cardassians have agreed that they had been in error of trusting the message from Deep Space 9. Apparently they have had some problems with defective messages emanating from that source in the past,” he calmly informed them.

“Commander, the Cardassian fleet is moving away,” Harry announced.

“No! Come back, you whooses!” Jason yelled at the screen, but the fight was over. Now they had to wait for those on board DS9 to retake the station.

#####

The next day the senior staff of the station, Voyager and the Hippopheralcus were gathered around the large meeting table on the Enterprise. 

“It would seem the entire incident had been orchestrated by the Cardassians,” Picard was saying. “The rebels we questioned all agreed that at one time they had been contacted by a man called Sharto.”

“Our intelligence had identified Sharto a while ago as a member of the Obsidian Order,” Kira added. She still seemed pissed. DS9 had become her baby, her bit of responsibility and her part in the establishment of a free Bajor.

“Even in our universe we have had problems with that Cardassian order,” Alana added. “It would not be uncommon for them to use other groups to their own ends.”

“And apparently le vrai Maquis was an easy target. They convinced the members that the Maquis returned from the Delta quadrant were the real traitors and should be made to pay,” Picard continued. As he spoke, though, Alana listened with only half an ear. The information of the Cardassian plot to use the rebel group to take over the station came mostly from her ship. What she, Mileander and Deanna had learned was that the Cardassians had hoped the rebels would take over the station. Then, in the guise of assistance, the Cadassians would retake the station from the rebels. Then, with Terok Nor back under their control, they would have a new platform from which to try and oust the Federation from Bajor and the wormhole.

Instead thus of listening, Alana was considering a few of her fellow command crew. In particular Janeway and Chakotay had drawn her attention. Though both humans would treat each other with respect and the obvious common courtesy of their respective ranks, she could sense something else – something deeper – beneath the surface. Both hid it from the other, content in the thought that they were merely friends and colleagues.

They were not.

In the same way Picard and Beverly Crusher were not just friends either. Though Beverly was absent from the meeting, Alana had studied the captain and the doctor earlier, and their situation distressed her. As a woman caught in the midst of a vicious war the Federation had been waging for nearly a century, she knew the value of relationships – of finding happiness wherever you were.

Rhemus, she silently sent her thoughts to him, keeping tight control of it in order that Deanna should not intercept it. What do you say we girls had a poker night? Beside her Rhemus lifted a very Romulan eyebrow.

What are you planning this time? In their world poker night was never about the cards. No, the sakes were much higher. 

Mentally she smiled. Just keep the men occupied until I give the word, she shot back. I’ll take care of the women.


	11. Much ado about...

Admiral Kathryn Janeway woke languidly, the slight scent of jasmine incense hanging in the air. Luxuriously she stretched, only to encounter a warm resistance to her left. She froze, not really certain what to make of the very definite feel of a body next to her. Her senses had already informed her she was laying on a standard Federation bed – after all the years spent on them one got to know that special feel of a Federation bed.

Still lying with her eyes closed, she tried to recall the evening past. She remembered being invited to play poker with some of the other women and she remembered getting slightly drunker than she had planned. And then...

New memories suddenly flashed in front of her mind’s eye. Memories of a night spent in sensual passion with...

A mental block slammed up in her mind; a block she had been very careful to nurture these past few years. Very slowly she reached out a hand, trying to verify that which she already knew, but could not believe. Surely after all this time this could not have happened, not here, not now.

The tentative hand slowly travelled up the warm body, up over a strong – very male – chest to encounter a chin. Carefully she reached higher and her fingers touched the sleep-softened mouth of the man next to her. A mouth she would recognise anywhere.

Now her eyes flew open and she looked at the sleeping face of Chakotay in the bed next to her. Another bout of traitorous images flashed through her mind and she pulled up the bedding in slight shock. Okay...so. It had really happened. Now what?

Coming to a decision, she carefully got out of bed, making sure she did not wake her former Commander. Padding over to the bathroom, she found most of her clothes scattered around the room. Try as she could, though, she couldn’t find her panties. Damn.

Quickly yet quietly she showered and donned her clothes. Fortunately her hair needed very little attention to be presentable and she was sure she would be able to sneak back to her quarters on board DS9 without causing suspicion. The best way to do that would simply be to look as if she had nothing to hide. Right, she could do that.

Making her way through the room to the door, it occurred to her that it was really rather ridiculous for a woman her age to be acting this way. Surely she had matured beyond this?

Trying to look as if nothing in the world was amiss, she stepped out of the room. Only to encounter a slightly stunned-looking Picard, stepping out of the room across from hers at the same time. For a silent moment the two of them stood looking at one another. Janeway’s eyes were caught by a very suspicious-looking bruise peeking over his collar. Aware of what she would be seeing, the older man lifted his hand to pull up his collar slightly, only to then having to pull down his jacket. The bruise peeked out once more, this time slightly more noticeable and very definitely a mark left by teeth. The type of mark teeth left during love-play. Um...

Though her mind had some trouble picturing the man in any semblance of an idea of passion, she none the less realised they were making a bad situation even worse by their mutual silence.

“Captain,” she recovered first, inclining her head slightly. 

“Admiral,” he returned her greeting. But that seemed to be it for conversation and for another moment the two of them stood mutely looking at one another. This time Picard recovered first. “Well, I have to be off,” he brusquely informed her.

She nodded. “Yes, I suppose I have to be off as well,” she responded. Then, very definitely, they headed in two opposite directions. Some things one did not want to know about. Although she was starting to have a sneaky suspicion that the entire night had not been without scheming on the part of the Hippopheralcians.

Yet, as she headed for the nearest turbo-lift, she found she was smiling.

#####

Eighteen hours earlier...

“As Alana has pointed out, our crews have not set out in the most amiable of ways,” Rhemus carefully informed the two men with him in the turbo-lift. They had just left the meeting between the command staff of the Hippopheralcus, the Enterprise and Voyager. After Alana’s suggestion he keep the men busy for a few hours, he had hurried to catch up to the two captains of the Enterprise and Voyager. “Also,” he continued when it seemed Picard wanted to say something. “These past few days had been trying on all of us. Therefore we of the Hippopheralcus invite you to an amiable night of...” For a moment he could not think of something, but then he remembered something about Picard’s past Alana had once mentioned. “Wine tasting,” he finished. 

“How very interesting,” Picard began and Rhemus had the suspicion he was going to decline out of hand. Therefore he wondered if he could first get Chakotay to agree. The peculiarly tattooed human seemed much more agreeable than the captain of the flagship of the federation.

“Alana have invited some of the women for an evening of poker on holo-deck one,” Rhemus quickly continued. “The wine tasting would be a gentleman-only occasion with wines from a variety of worlds all over the Alpha and Beta quadrants.” He looked at Chakotay, trying to decide how much he could push the other man. 

After a moment’s silence Chakotay finally grinned. “It sounds like a reasonable invitation,” he remarked. “I would be honoured to attend.”

Rhemus had been correct in his assumption, for after Captain Chakotay had agreed, Picard would seem like a sore looser if he backed out without a good reason. Especially as both the other men now stared at the balding Captain.

Finally he smiled a slightly sick smile. “Very well,” he agreed and, had Rhemus been the type, he would have grinned. As it was he merely inclined his head and told them they would be expected at nineteen hundred hours in holo-deck two, dressed in the formal attire of the early twenty-first century earth. If they were going to attend a peculiar activity, at least they could do it in the correct style. Both men assured him they would be there and Rhemus set off to find the first human crewmember he could.

In the end the results were not too bad, considering Rhemus did not know that much about twenty-first century human culture. Though Tom Paris assured him the setting was perfect. His search for an expert on the era had strangely brought him to the cocky Lieutenant of Voyager. The result was an intimate setting Paris called Sandrine’s Bar and it had the added bonus of being a vintage set of a real place in France. The basic program had seemed to be rather shabby place, but they had managed to change it into a refined bar with neatly-dressed waiters and a smoke-free atmosphere. The snacks laid out were also real food, not holographic representations thereof. Well, they would be tasting real wine, after all.

When the two captains and a few of their male senior staff arrived, Rhemus saw those of Voyager smiling at the setting. It would seem they were somehow familiar with the program, but it could not be helped now.

At the neat bar the neatly-dressed ‘Sandrine’ and two of her helpers stood ready with a selection of fine wines and crystal glasses. Every wine’s information had been programmed into the computer and the evening promised to be very...well, he hoped it would be something the humans will enjoy. He noticed the dark Vulcan Commander, Tuvok, and the android, Data, were missing from the line-up.

As it turned out, even Rhemus found the evening enjoyable. After about ten minutes, Tom Paris had suggested to him that they program some cigars into the setting and the vile-tasting smoking sticks had seemed to add to the evening. Rhemus was just happy that the stink would not accompany him outside the doors to the holo-deck.

Finally the evening seemed to be winding down and he gently prompted Alana. At her confirmation that everything was ready for them at her end, he announced the final round. This round would be no different from the others, with the exception that the waiters would serve Picard and Chakotay – and only them – a Nagha liqueur. To the Naghas the drink served to almost-instantly make them drunk, but on most humanoids it had a very different effect. And because the human digestive tract was much longer than a Nagha’s, the effects would not be as instantaneous. If they timed it correctly, the two men would be experiencing the effects right after they had collected the women.

With satisfaction Rhemus noticed the two captains taking the drink from the bar and sipping. Picard still had a cigar in one hand, but Chakotay had not seemed to be much impressed by it. It must be a French thing, Rhemus surmised.

Taking his own drink – normal Shernal wine of no more than three years – he went to stand by the two men. Fortunately they had ended up together, probably discussing something very Federationey. 

“Gentlemen,” Rhemus started. “I hope you have enjoyed the evening?” he formally asked. Yet, as a Romulan, it wasn’t really a question, was it? It was more of an affirmation of something he already knew.

“It did turn out to be a rather agreeable evening,” Picard smiled. It was a genuine smile, too.

“I really like what you’ve done with the place,” Chakotay grinned at the large Romulan. Rhemus squared his shoulders and Chakotay smiled even more. “Sandrine’s was one of the first programs we ran on Voyager after the accident,” he explained. He slightly indicated ‘Sandrine.’ “Although I remember her being much more aggressive,” he added. Rhemus was not sure if that was a compliment or not, but decided to let it lie. He had other things that needed to be done.

“Then I am pleased to find this had been a memorable setting,” he told them. “But if you would excuse me, I find I had promised Alana I would escort her back to our quarters after their games had finished. As I am familiar with the game, I am sure the women would be finished by now,” he baited them.

Mellowed by drink and good food, the two men smiled at Rhemus. “Well, our evening would seem to have come to an end as well,” Picard took the bait. “I am sure we could join you in offering our services to the female members of the crew.”

Rhemus nodded, hiding his satisfaction at the older Captain’s suggestion. No matter their reputation, this galaxy’s people were no match to the crew of the Hippopheralcus.

#####

Beverly Crusher was the last to join the women set up in holo-deck one and was beamed directly to the party. Almost in passing Alana had mentioned to Janeway the women were having a poker night, and Charin had done the same with Beverly. The green woman had been spending some time with the doctor of the Enterprise and the invitation had not seemed out of place. As Alana watched the red-headed doctor look around at the setting, she could sense neither she nor Kathryn suspected anything.

The program was one specially designed by Charin of her homeworld, with the added mystique of some human tales. The entire room was hung with soft, iridescent drapes and a multitude of soft, velvety pillows were scattered around. In the centre of the room pillows had been arranged in a circle and the only piece of furniture was a large, low table. On it were the playing cards they would use for the occasion. Also, during the night small foods and drink would be provided by men in strange wide pants gathered around the ankles, turbans and shoes with curled toes. Their torsos were left bare and bronzed and their eyes masked.

One other feature of the proceedings was that near the door a large basket had been placed. One would hardly notice it until the music playing in the background was accompanied by a flute. Then the top of the basket would slowly, sinuously, rise and Salazar would peek out. Both he and Rhemus had insisted someone be present to protect Alana, and Salazar had been granted the privilege. The only problem was that some primal instinct made him want to rise up from the basket every time he heard the flute. It annoyed the crap out of him, but Alana ignored him. She had not requested his presence, after all. He’s an uninvited guest and he was just going to have to live with the consequences.

“Well, this is quite different,” Beverly remarked to Alana as she accepted a drink offered by one of the men. Alana smiled.

“This is one of Charin’s favourite programs and offers a variety of options. Although,” she added as she sipped her own drink, “Tonight it is merely a back-drop for our game.”

Beverly smiled at her and Alana had a single moment of doubt concerning her plan. This woman seemed rather sweet. But it was simply a moment’s doubt and soon vanished at the reminder that it was for their own good.

“The setting for poker on board the Enterprise certainly lacks the flamboyancy of this room,” the doctor informed Alana. Alana frowned.

“I do not hope we have offended you in any way,” she asked, but Beverly waved her concerns aside. Together the two women sauntered over towards the pillows, taking their places in the gathering. Though the game of poker, as invented on earth, was normally played by only a small number of people – Alana believed only five – they played a variation of the game invented on Faro Prime. This version was played with a few more people and around the table sat Alana, Kathryn, Beverly, Charin, Xenedra, Phonixia, Laura Cadman, Tempest Peck and Kono Kalakaua. Though everyone was dressed in regular uniform, the atmosphere was relaxed.

For a while the game continued as normal, but soon the heavy atmosphere and drink started to take a toll. Laura was the first to remove her jacket and soon after most of the rest of them had followed her lead. Even the two guests seemed relaxed and were taking to the game.

It was Phonixia who first, shyly, bet the last of her chips and a small bracelet she was wearing under her top. Fortunately she won, but the stage had been set for placing alternative bets. At first this was done quite innocently and sometimes the item bet was not an item of jewellery but a piece of clothing. Meanwhile the waiters kept their glasses full, but Alana made sure nobody ever exceeded their natural limit. The two guests were adept at maintaining their own sobriety, yet the effects soon mellowed them.

It was a few hours into the night that Xenedra found herself quite broke. The previous bet she had lost her socks (she had lost her boots long since) and now she had nothing left to place a bet with. With a sigh she rolled her eyes, took a long drink from her glass of clear pink wine and pulled off her top. The moment she did so, Alana felt the slight tension of Kathryn and Beverly and she gently soothed their emotions. Not even the most adept Betazoid would have suspected the touch, but instantly the two women relaxed. They relaxed even more when Charin leaned her head almost negligently on her friend’s shoulder and sighed.

“You are by far the worst player I have ever met,” Charin informed Xenedra, who scowled. But the potentially tense moment passed and the game continued.

For a while only a few desperate women had to bet pieces of clothing, all of them being of the Hippopheralcus. Kathryn and Beverly would probably have raged if they had found out that Alana was cheating by reading their minds and allowing them to stay comfortably in the game. It was easy to do wen you could communicate mentally with the rest of your crew. But finally Alana decided she needed to push the first of them to place a more dangerous bet. The first to provide the opportunity was Beverly. She suddenly found herself holding a wonderful hand, but having too little money to bet with. Alana informed Phonixia – who had a better hand – to gently raise the stakes. In the end it was just the two women still in, both glaring at one another. Phonixia seemed innocent, but she had been caught bluffing a couple of times. It was not even necessary for Alana to mentally urge the doctor from the Enterprise to make the final bet. 

Beverly narrowed her eyes at Phonixia. “I know you’re bluffing, I can smell it,” she informed the sweet Talaxian. Phonixia smiled serenely.

“Even bluffing I could win,” she cryptically told the older woman and Beverly narrowed her eyes even more. She looked at the stack of chips in front of Phonixia and then at the empty space in front of her.

“You know, I think I need to see that raise,” she suddenly informed Phonixia as she glared at the Talaxian woman. With a determined expression she slammed her cards onto the table and removed her own blue top. 

Phonixia won, but from there on it was easy to get the most of the rest of them to surrender their clothes. Though Alana still carefully orchestrated every move of her crew, she managed to get both visitors to lose their shoes and tops. She also made sure none of her crew – especially Xenedra and Charin – lost more than their upper clothing. She herself had no qualms about losing every drop of clothing, but she knew the two women from this universe would not be as comfortable with any of them sitting there completely naked. Besides, she did not want the men’s attention to be on her crew.

And finally Rhemus informed her he was ready to join her party. She sent the message that the women were ready as well and with some effort even managed to get Charin to put her top back on.

 

Five minutes late, on cue, Rhemus entered the room with Picard and Chakotay. 

#####

The sight that greeted the three men as they entered holo-deck one was of a group of scantily-dressed women tipsy on drink and fun, gaily playing a version of poker. Liquid laughter filled the room as they bantered with each other. Rhemus noticed that not only items of clothing were offered as collateral, but also the telling of secrets. In fact, as they entered Admiral Janeway was in the middle of telling them some secret about her youth and a man with dark eyes.

At the doorway the three men ground to a halt and after a moment the women realised they were no longer alone. With smiles they turned to look at the fancily dressed men standing near Salazar’s basket. 

“Jean-Luc,” Beverly Crushed grinned as she waved him over. She took a sip from her glass. “You really ought to join us,” she happily, innocently informed her captain. As Alana had suspected, the woman was already very comfortable around Picard.

“Well, I...” Picard began. He seemed riveted by the sight of Crushed in nothing more than her underwear and pants. Strangely, Rhemus noticed Charin was wearing a top.

After a moment’s hesitation, Picard took off his jacket and carefully approached his crewmember. Delicately he put the piece of clothing around her shoulders and helped her to her feet. She wobbled slightly and Picard found he had no alternative but to pick her up. This proved to be a mistake, though, as the woman flung both her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Picard gave Rhemus and Chakotay a lop-sided embarrassed grin. “Well, perhaps I need to get her to her quarters,” he informed them. Rhemus frowned.

“I doubt if you would want anyone to see Doctor Crusher in such a condition,” he formally told Picard. “Perhaps you could escort her to one of the guest quarters on board the Hippopheralcus.”

Picard inclined his head. “An excellent idea,” he agreed. 

By now Chakotay had gone over to Admiral Janeway and had snatched her top from the pile. While she was joking with him as she stood in front of him, he tried to dress her. After a few seconds Phonixia stuck her arm in the air while cocking her head at a weird angle. In her hand she had the Admiral’s jacket. Chakotay smiled at her.

“Thank you,” he said as he gave up on pulling a top over Janeway’s head and instead put the jacket on.

Rhemus noticed that the Admiral was steadily gaining control of herself – or at least was attempting to do so – and he wondered if she and Chakotay would end up together. She now frowned slightly as she took off her jacket, put on her top (backwards on the first try) and then put on her jacket. Her feet were bare, but she did not seem to notice. Chakotay did and he rummaged around in the pile until he found her boots. Carefully he kneeled in front of her to assist her, but she lost her balance and plopped down on the low table.

“I’m sorry,” she said in that peculiar voice of her. “I seem to have drunk more than I should,” she informed her friend. He smiled at her.

“You’re forgiven...this time,” he joked and she smiled rather shyly. Rhemus guessed the drink fed to the four guests were starting to work.

After her had helped her with her boots, Chakotay helped Janeway up and started to lead her to the door where Rhemus still stood. Picard had left, Salazar helping him find the way to the guest quarters. Unfortunately a stray cushion tripped Janeway and Chakotay caught her around her middle. After a short moment where neither moved, the tattooed man bent and picked Janeway up much the same as Picard had picked up Crusher. Only Janeway did not happily embrace the Captain. Instead she tried to insist she could walk on her own.

Chakotay looked down at her. “Kathryn, you’re in no condition to argue,” he informed her and Rhemus wondered at the man calling the Admiral by name. Previously he had not observed such informal behaviour between them.

As the two of them neared Rhemus, he informed them of the location of the guest quarters, knowing full well Chakotay would find it on their own. 

After the two from Voyager had left, the room was silent for a moment. Then it was as if a dam burst and conversation started. The first to speak was Kono.

“Damn, Beverly forgot most of her clothes,” she said as she riffled in the pile. With deft movements she and Laura were sorting through the clothes and handing the garments to their owners. Even as Alana was pulling on her boots, Phonixia was showing her a tablet and discussing some details of engineering. Xenedra and Charin were discussing whether Dorfl and Jason would be up for a game of Dabo this time of night and the rest of them were just basically continuing with their night as they would any other night – with the exception of everyone still putting on pieces of clothing. Tempest was the first to leave, taking Crusher’s clothes and promising to deliver the items the next morning. An alarm would be placed on the replicator in the room she had been taken to in order to alert Tempest to a time it would be convenient to return the items of clothing.

One by one the women left until at last Alana walked up to Rhemus. She looked tired, but satisfied.

“Has it ever occurred to you that what you just did might be unethical?” he asked her as she leaned over and kissed him. Stepping back she frowned at him. 

“You would rather have me mentally compel them?” she asked in return. Her frowned.

“Drugging them is better?” he shot back and she smiled.

“Nagha liqueur could not summon desire where there is none,” she replied as she took his arm. “It merely lowers some inhibitions,” she added. He looked at the top of her head.

“I was merely wondering,” he finally told her.

“I still love you, though,” she replied.

#####

Just after lunch Kathryn’s door chime sounded and she called for the guest to come in. She was working on a report she had received that morning and was startled as something was placed in front of her. She recognized it as the lost piece of clothing. Looking up she found Chakotay looking down at her.

“I can guarantee you I had not planned last night,” she calmly informed him. Though she had finally managed to get some work done, she had spent the better part of the morning considering the night before.

Chakotay smiled at her. “I think someone else did,” he replied. She nodded. “Kathryn...” he began, but she cut him off.

“Thank you for returning this,” she told him as she stood up, putting the small piece of clothing in the replicator behind her.

“Kathryn...” he tried once more, but she smiled.

“You could have just returned it to the replicator, though,” she continued, apparently oblivious to him trying to talk.

“Kathryn!” he said, louder than usual.

“What?” she demanded. “Last night happened. It is over. It should never have happened, but it did and we should move on.”

He cocked his head slightly and gave her that small smile he seemed to save only for her. “I’m not sorry it did,” he told her.

She looked slightly startled. “You’re not?”

He smiled even more. By now she stood before him, speaking in that insistent way she had when angry. But she wasn’t angry right now. “Well, I have the rest of the afternoon free,” he informed her. For a moment they stood silently staring at one another, and then he sensed her resistance crumbling.

“This is a bad idea,” she informed him, but he smiled and swept her into his arms. “Actually, I distinctly recall telling you that last night,” she added as he started to carry her to the small bedroom attached to the sitting room.

“I also remember that didn’t seem to matter,” he added. “Especially as you were taking off my pants at the moment.”

She finally laughed out loud. “Well, I was already naked by then. Getting you out of your pants only seemed fair,” she explained even as he leaned over to kiss her. He suppose she was right.

#####

Meanwhile, on the Enterprise a similar discussion was taking place.

“Look, we were both intoxicated and that blasted room did not help,” Picard was angrily telling Beverly. She smiled as she thought about the room heavy with incense and the glow of candles the only light next to the soft illumination of the stars.

“It was a very nice room,” she calmly responded and Picard nearly sputtered with indignation.

“It was a set-up, that’s what,” he added and she nodded.

“Probably,” she agreed with him. This did not seem to make his mood any better, though.

“I should have that woman brought up on charges,” he angrily continued and she sighed while rolling her eyes. Picard did not see as he was pacing the room. On his way around she stepped in front of him and he nearly walked into her.

“Jean-Luc,” she firmly said as she pushed him down on a seat to his side. She kneeled in front of him. 

“What?” he demanded.

“We have known each other a lifetime,” she tried to explain, but he would not listen.

“And you were married to my best friend!” he retorted.

“Yes, I was,” she calmly spoke. “I do not regret one day of my marriage, except perhaps that you have been using it as an excuse to keep me at a distance for years now.” She shook her head. “He’s been dead a long time and I, for one, had moved on with my life. That does not mean I love him less, but I would like to once more feel that way about someone else again.”

“You...would?” he asked; baffled. She put on her best ‘mom’ expression, the one she hadn’t used since Wesley had been a small child.

“You know, sometimes you can be really dense,” she seriously informed him. “And rather silly,” she added.

“I...could?” he parroted once more. She nodded, aware that he had somehow lost the plot of the conversation.

“And now I would like you to kiss me again,” she continued, still using the same voice. For a moment he seemed to struggle with his conscience, but then gave up. Carefully he reached out and gently touched her cheek. The moment stretched between them, but then he pulled her closer, still gently but firmly, and finally kissed her as she wanted him to.


	12. The Hunt for the Blue Belliohm

"We're going to need to ask them for help," Alana admitted late the night. It was a few days after they've rescued Deep Space 9 and she and Remus were lying in bed: she was snuggled close to him in his arm and tracing lazy circles on his chest. Rhemus knew it wasn't really a question, only Alana's way of making a decision late at night. 

He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers. 

"As difficult as it is to admit it, it seems we have little choice," he admitted. As a Romulan trust wasn't something that came easily to him.

Alana pushed up on her elbow and looked at her lover. "They can be trusted, can't they?" she asked of him. The two of the had known each other for nearly twelve years now and had been lovers for over ten. As partners, friends, lovers and telepaths they knew as much about each other as any two people can know one another. Therefore he knew how big a risk they would be taking by asking for help and knew how difficult the decision was for Alana. A large part of him wished they could manage on their own in this, but he knew they needed help.

"If they betray our trust, I will torture them and kill them myself," he sincerely promised.

Alana smiled. "Oh, I love your pillow talk," she smiled as she leaned down and kissed him.

#####

The next afternoon found Alana and Rhemus gathered in the captain's ready-room with Amiral Janeway and Captain Chakotay. Aware of what they were asking, Alana had made sure their cook had baked a number of traditional earth delicasies and it was spread out on the small table btween them with a choice of coffee or tea. What she hadn't considered was the tension between the two fromVoyager. She knew their plan had worked two nights ago, but she was beginning to suspect that somehow the two people had managed to mess things up once more. It would be such a very human thing to do, she mused.

Kathryn sat back in her seat across from Chakota and smiled at Alana.

"Though this is pleasant, I doubt if you've asked us here simply to chat," she said as she gently raised her eyebrows in a question behind the rim of her glass. Alana thought it was a good trick to use a sip of a beverage to unsettle a subordinate. She would have to remember it. Perhaps it might even work on her resident Ocampan.

Alana leaned forward in her seat and smiled at the other woman.

"And what makes you think that?" she smoothly asked.

Kathryn smiled. "Because I'm starting to understand the way you think," she replied and to Alana's left Chakotay dipped his head and she knew he was trying to hide a smile. Alana supposed she deserved that: it was true after all, she had asked them here for another reason. She looked back at Kathryn, athough she knew she would have to consider Chakotay's feelings in this as well. After all, he was the captain of Voyager now.

"Unfortunately you are correct," Alana told them. "I only wish I didn't have to," she added.

"Oh?" Kathryn asked noncomitally.

"I don't supose this has anything to do with the belliohm crystal you need?" Chakotay asked, much to Alana and Rhemus' surprise.

"I'd really like to know how you know about the belliohm crystal," Rhemus asked. Alana placed her hand on her first officer's leg, knowing he was on the edge of exploding.

"You're not the only ones who know how to gather information," the tattooed man smiled. "Besides, your infinity drive has been keeping Torres up at night for a week now," he added. "It seems Seven of Nine ran across a small reference to it one day. She, too, has been tempted to know the secrets of a drive that can bring you across universes," he explained.

"Your crewmember could only have gained access to such files on board our ship, and then only if she had bypassed numerous security systems," Rhemus coldly informed the captain of Voyager.

Kathryn sighed. "Unfortunately Seven often chooses to forget many of the rules we of Starfleet have to adhere to. To her it was almost a religious imperative to know about your technology. Be assured, she has been reprimanded and she will not share this information with anyone."

"Except your engineering officer," Alana lightly added. She felt the same worry Rhemus did at this information, but she knew they still needed these people. Besides, what they are about to ask them would have required her telling them the basics of this technology anyway.

"But this isn't why you invited us," Kathryn changed the subject back to where it started. "And I wouldn't be surprised if Captain Chakotay is correct about needing a piece of the belliohm crystal from Vulcan."

"It seems Torres has been busy," Alana finally said. She knew she shouldn't be surprised at the ingenuity of the Voyager crew, but she was aware that if they had managed to find out, so could someone else.

This time Kathryn smiled, but it was Chakotay who answered. For two people who seemed on-edge around one another, they were curiously in sync.

"I wouldn't worry about it," he softly told them and Alana could see why the other woman liked him. That voice could be a dangerous weapon if he chose to use it. "Torres hasn't been able to make much more of the drive than what we've told you. And rest assured, we would have informed you of this breach."

"Eventually," Kathryn added and Alana had the sense the tension between her and thecaptain might have something to do with the infinity drive.

Alana chose to ignore the slight comment, though, and smiled at Chakotay. "Your engineer seems like the type of person that wouldn't bee too thrilled at her inability to figure out the infintiy drive."

"Probably not," Kathryn smiled. "But please, why did you ask us here?"

Knowing they could no longer put off the inevitable, Alana sighed.

"You're right, we need your help in securing uncracked belliohm crystal." Using her mental abilities, she reinforced the urgency she felt. She wasn't above trying to mentally compel them, but she liked and respected these two people and their strange crew and she would prefer to have their willing cooperation. Helping them along with her mind wasn't cheating as far as she was concerned. It's just something she did. "We've contacted the Vulcan council, but they've refused to help us."

"And this is the only such crystal you know of?" Chakotay asked.

This time Rhemus spoke. Alana sensed he was calmer now that the truth had been revealed and their secret secured.

"Colonel Kira had been kind enough to allow s the use of DS-9's database. If there is another crystal with that molecular stucture somewehre else in this universe, it is not on record."

"On the other hand, the Vulcans have recorded the discovery of the belliohm crystal and they've made it clear it was the only one like it on the planet they found it on," Alana added. "They consider it an art relic and is unwilling to help us."

"So what is is you want from us?" Chakotay asked and Alana was heartened by the way he said it. By now they must have an idea what the Hippopheralcus needed and so his question felt more lika a formality than anything else.

Alana took a deep breath. "We're going to need some help procuring a piece of crystal from Vulcan. We need a piece no larger than one cubic centimetres. Would you assist us?"

"What exactly would you want from Voyager?" Kathryn asked. She might not have said they would do it, but neither has she refused. Alana supposed that it was the best she could hope for, for now.

#####

The festivities had ended and Voyager had offered to escort the Hippopheralcus back to earth and the Jupiter space station for some much needed repairs. Though the Hippopheralcus wasn't a Federation ship, the Federation had agreed to repair their ship - or at least the parts they were allowed to repair. But also, because the Hippopheralcus wasn't a Federation ship, the Federation didn't want them flying around unescorted through Federation space. Fortunately the crew of Voyager and the crew of the Hippopheralcus seemed to be getting along fine and so the two almost identical ships undocked from the strange, spider-like pylons at Deep Space 9 and set off towards earth. 

"I hope you find your way home," Kira said as she greeted Alana on the view-screen. The crew were all ready and bright-eyed; happy to depart. On their bridge though, Tom Paris sat at the con. The cocky pilot had requested an officer-exchange between the pilots of the two ships. The Hippopheralcus was the same as Voyager in many respects, but Jason and Tom had compared notes and now both were eager to prove their own ship had the best modifications. Sometimes those two seemed like overgrown boys to Alana.

"We thank you for your hospitality," Alana reurned the greeting. With it she sent a short burst of gratitude and well-wishing. She really liked the feisty Bajoran and hoped them all the best for the future.

"Whenever you're in this part of the universe, look us up. I'm sure Quark wouldn't mind," Kira added and Alana laughed.

"Until next time," she said and the view-screen returned to the panorama of space as seen by their fore sensors. On the starboard side Voyager drifted into view. "Ready, Lieutenant Paris?"

Paris turned in his seat to grin at her. "Aye-aye, Captain," he said before turning back to the panel and taping a few keys. With the skill of a master pilot Tom turned them in the direction they were headed. Suddenly, in a streak of blue, Voyager jumped went into warp. Moments later the Hippopheralcus joined her. Travelling at the moderate speed of warp 4, the two ships headed back towards Federation space. Their path would bring them close to the Vulcan homeworld within a few weeks. Normally the trip to earth via Vulcan took much less time, but due to the nature of the damage theHippopheralcus had incurred, they couldn't maintain a sustainable warpspeed above warp 4. In a crunch they might be able to each warp 8, but not without suffering more damage.

"Do you think this will work?" Rhemus asked his captain and lover as she sat down in her chair.

It'd better work, the raspy dry voice of Salazar reached them. Alana smiled at her commander.

"Of course. Our plans always work," Alana confidently stated.

"Well, there was that time with the burning house..." Dorfl droned.

And that time we tried to thtake out the Theventh Tholarium... Salazar added and Alana glared at him.

"We found the missing Ferengi soldier, didn't we?" she asked her resident Nagha. She turned her attention on Dorfl. "And the house was a mere detail," she added.

Ath you wish, Salazar conceded and Alana had to supress a grin. Her crew was in a good mood and she was glad. It hadn't been an easy few days on Deep Space 9 and they had all been worried about getting home. She also knew they had been bored. The stunts Xenedra and Charin had pulled on Pickard, Dorfl and Salazar and the rest on Quark and her own stunt on Janeway, Chakotay, Pickard and Crusher had proved that. But it seemed sometimes they just couldn't help themselves. They were all extreme adrenalin junkies and she knew the only time they had really felt alive had been when they had freed the station from the hostage takers. Yes, they had bitched about it at the time, but they had been doing that which they were best at and they had loved it!

"Yes, I wish," she told them. She looked back at the view screen. "We always finish our missions."

At the con she could see Tom Paris' shoulders haunch over as he tried to keep from commenting. She wondered if the light-haired man would be able to survive her crew for long.

Alana soon got her answer, as the Voyager pilot had charmed half her crew by the end of the week and the rest soon after. Well, her crew had been charming the other crew and by the time the bright star of the Vulcan homeworld was within sensor range, the two crews were mixing freely back and forth, transporting those times the Hippopheralcus had to drop out of warp for necessary repairs, and sometimes she wondered which ones belonged to her and which ones belonged to the curiously dual command of Kathryn and Chakotay. To their credit, Alana started noticing a few changes in her own crew and for the time that the magic lasted her crew seemed to be on the best behaviour she ahd ever seen. Yet, like a mother she knew she mustn't dig too deep, for often beneath the veneer of good behaviour lurked a few new stunts she didn't want to know about.

At the edge of Vulcan space the two ships once more fell out of warp for the Hippopheralcus to do some repairs. Though this was to some degree a ruse, it was also the truth: the ship's systems were breaking quicker than they could repair them. Kathryn explained one evening when she and Alana dined together that in this universe a ship would never be allowed to break down to this point. Repairs were done on a regular basis and every ship was completely overhauled at least once every three years. In Alana's universe her ship hadn't been in dry docks since it had been commisioned due to the war and she regretted that necessity now.

While Phonixia and her crew were scurrying about repairing as much as they could, Xenedra, Rhemus, Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres made their way to the shuttle bay on board Voyager. That had been both part of the deal and the reason the Hippopheralcus had needed the help of Voyager: Tom's Delta Flyer. The Federation had signed a treaty with the Romulans many years ago concerning cloaking technology. The Federation had no cloaking technology. The Hippopheralcus did. On the other hand, the Delta Flyer was faster and better equiped than any shuttle the Hippopheralcus had. It seemed they could help one another.

Delta Flyer ready when you are, the joking voice of Paris informed the bridge.

Alana smiled. "You can engage the cloak once you're 15 000 away from the ship," she told him.

We know, Alana, Xenedra replied on a sigh. I helped develop it, remember? 

Alana rolled her eyes, but refrained from answering. There were days when Xenedra tried to push her boundries further than she ought to.

"Alana! There's a disturbance on our port bow!" Dorfl urgently interrupted the normal proceedings. "There's a huge quantum singularity forming less than a 100 000 kilometers from us!"

"On screen!" Alana snapped and now she could see the strange occurence.

"There's a ship being pulled into the singularity!" Dorfl added and Alana felt fear rising within her. They really didn't need this as well.

"Jason, set a course away from the black hole - full impulse!" she told the pilot now back at his post.

On the view screen the black hole was still expanding and now she could see Voyager drifting towards it as their sister-ship became caught within the gravitational pull of the singularity. From the glow of their engines Alana knew they were at impulse as well, but now the view started to shift.

"Alana, we're being pulled in!" Jason reported. Gone was the lazy beach-bum.

"Engineering!" Alana snapped, but Phoenixia's voice interrupted her.

"Alana, we have nothing to spare! The Hippopheralcus is dead in the water! I suggest we divert all power to the shields and hang on!"

It was one of those instances when Alana knew she had merely a split-second to choose who she trusted and what they were going to do. This time she knew she had to trust Phoenixia.

"Divert power to the shields!" she ordered as she spun around and threw herself down in her seat. The gravitational eddies were throwing the ship around and the inertial dampeners could not compensate for all of it. One moment it felt as if her belly was sinking to her shoes and the next as if it was trying to leap from her throat. "I hate these things," she griped as a panel burst to her right in a shower of sparks. From somewhere coolant was leaking and the image on the view screen was obscured by static.

Forces pulled at the ship and her officers read out as many readings as they could. Somewhere she knew she ordered power diverted from other system to both the shields and the inertial dampeners. Something blew fire into the afmosphere for a moment and the ship groaned under the stress it was being subjected to.

Then, like the burst of a bubble silence fell over the ship. Movement stopped and Alana hoped that whatever had been happening was over.

Over the com a voice hailed them, and assuming it was Voyager Alana signaled Dorfl to open the line.

"Did you survive?" she asked as she tried to tuck her hair back into the braid it had been in.

"...yourself..." she heard through the system.

"Dorfl, can you clear that up?" she demanded. Without replying the big Klingon set to work on filtering out the noise. 

"Try it now, Alana," he rumbled.

"Voyager, are you all right?" she asked and she could hear a note of panic in her voice. Two of her crew members were on board the other ship, one her friend and one her lover.

Suddenly the face of a young man appeared on the view screen. For an instant it flickered and then it stabalised.

"Unknown vessels, this is Captain Kirk of the starship Enterprise. Identify yourself!" the young man demanded.

"Kirk?" Mileander - who was seated next to Alana in Rhemus' seat - asked. "James Tiberius Kirk?"

"Who am I addressing?" the young man asked and Alana and Mileander exchanged glances.

"Fabulous, love. You know what, I'll leave you to it, shall I? This situation calls for a strong drink." he remarked as he stood up to leave. Alana reached out and grabbed the seat of his pants; pulling him back into his seat.

"Sit. Shut up. Think!" she informed her counsellor. Carefully she stood up and walked forward, knowing the camera would automatically focus on her.

"Captain Kirk, I am Alana Ilbrux of the starship Hippipheralcus. I'll understand if you don't remember that. And then I think we need to talk," she told the young man on her screen. Behind her Mileander disobeyed her direct order:

"He's cuter than I thought he would be."


End file.
